


In the end, we're only visiting...

by ArielAquarial



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accountant Castiel (Supernatural), Awesome Charlie Bradbury, Balthazar & Castiel Friendship (Supernatural), Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Fluff, Hard of Hearing Castiel, Light Angst, M/M, Matchmaker Charlie Bradbury, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Meet-Ugly, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Castiel (Supernatural), Pining Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielAquarial/pseuds/ArielAquarial
Summary: Castiel Novak had it all. A high paying job, a beachside house worth millions, and a best friend who truly had his best interests at heart (despite his unorthodox way of showing it). That all changed when Balthazar finally convinced him to see a doctor about his hearing issue.A story about discovering what is important, mending bridges, and maybe (just maybe) finding love along the way.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 31
Kudos: 237





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally planning on posting this next week, but with everything going on, I'm sure another fanfic would be appreciated!

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

**On the day they lay your body down to bury**  
**There will be no pockets on the pants you're wearing**  
**And on that day you will see what all it is worth**  
**So earthlings don't keep your treasures here on earth**

**_Just Visiting, by WookieFoot_ **

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Castiel could pinpoint the exact moment he realized his hearing was changing. He was on his second promotion in the accounting department, and for the first time, he was directly responsible for a handful of clients. Answering call after call and having to type information into the computer with the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear soon started giving him neck problems. Rather than having to deal with a potential workers’ comp case, his manager issued him a headset.

The problems started right away. At first, he assumed the equipment was faulty, and while it took four days to get a replacement, he soon had a shiny new headset perched atop his head. The minute he took his first call, he deflated. That headset was busted as well. It wasn’t until he had the third set on his head and it _still_ wasn’t working properly that he started to think the problem might have been with him.

To test his theory, he called over his friend Balthazar and forced him to put it on. Once the soft piano was playing through the headset, he looked at his friend pointedly. “Do you hear it?”

Balthasar frowned and listened for a moment. “Is this one of those subliminal message things? Am I going to suddenly want to fuck you? Because I have to tell you, Cassie… that ship has sailed.”

Castiel squinted at him in annoyance. “No. The sound… how is it?”

His friend was still looking at him strangely. “Fine?”

“One side isn’t louder than the other?”

“No?” he seemed to concentrate on the sound a bit more. “It sounds fine, love.”

“Oh.” He thanked his friend and once he was alone, he let out a sigh of frustration. So it _was_ him. He thought back to his teen years and cursed his own stupidity. His parents had divorced when he was thirteen, and he had taken it hard. For him, coping meant loud music and a ton of weed. He’d grown out of it, but his relationship with both parents hadn’t survived. It would serve him right that the loud music damaged his hearing.

A quick google search told him there wasn’t anything he could do. Any tips were preventative, rather than restorative. Hearing aids seemed to be the only option, but Castiel was _fine_. He could still hear and it had no impact on his work. In fact, Castiel was well on his way to becoming head of the accounting department.

It didn’t become a real problem until five years later.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Cas pulled at his ear lobe in annoyance. His tinnitus was back, or rather, it was becoming noticeable again. The one thing he learned about the condition is that it never really left. The buzzing was always in the background, waiting for a quiet moment to reappear. He remembered hearing it as early as seventeen. In the beginning, it was intermittent, only making its presence known when he listened to loud music or got into his father's liquor cabinet. Then one day, two years previous, the buzzing started and never stopped. He was able to ignore it mostly, but certain triggers — like the common cold or certain weather — made it come back with a vengeance. Alcohol was one of those triggers, but drinking with Balthazar was one of the few ways he unwound at the end of the week and he couldn’t give that up.

It was tiring, especially when the noise made for long nights, but there was nothing he could do about it. Masking it with other noises was always the best option. He found that focusing on the hum of his laptop or turning on the radio would help keep him from hearing it. But today, even his Uncle Adler's voice wasn’t enough to cover the buzzing.

Zachariah droned on, referencing the chart displayed on the PowerPoint as he talked about the company image and what they could do to improve it. It did nothing to distract him, and so he could only sit and listen to his own ears betray him. He knew tinnitus had no cure, and the only thing to be done for it was to cover the noise with other — less annoying — noises. Not using any kind of listening device was supposed to stop it from getting worse, but he hadn’t used a set of headphones since his early days in the company. Cas had even gone to an acupuncturist, but halfway through the session, he had wholeheartedly regretted it. To resort to such pseudoscience was beneath his intelligence. 

“Mr. Novak!” Mr. Adler's voice broke through his thoughts. “Please pay attention.” 

Castiel nodded. “My apologies, Mr. Adler.” 

“You’re up.” Balthazar hissed to him from his left. 

Cas nodded gratefully, and got to his feet, readying himself to give his report. Adler raised an eyebrow at him and gestured for him to come to the front in such a way that it left no doubt that Adler had spent a few moments trying to get his attention. Cas sighed and took over, relaying his practiced speech about the budget to the assembled group members. 

When the meeting was over, he was waved over by Mr. Adler. “Novak…” he began, the gentle sigh serving its purpose to make Cas feel like a child. “I can't have you getting distracted during meetings. It sends a bad message to others.” 

Cas looked down, trying his hardest to appear chastised. “Yes, sir.” 

“If people see my own nephew disrespecting me, they will think they can too.” He shook his head and gripped Cas’s shoulder tightly. “I stuck my neck out for you. We can’t have that happening.” 

Cas bristled at the reminder that it was Adler's connection that helped him get his job. “Of course, Mr. Adler.”

Adler squeezed once before letting go. “Don’t let it happen again, Novak. There are many people who would love to have your job.”

Cas watched Adler go, his stomach in knots at the thinly veiled threat. 

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Balthazar was still sniggering at him as they entered the bar. “God, Cassie. You should have seen his face when you ignored him that first time. It was like you punched his grandmother!” 

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Balthazar,” Cas ground out in annoyance as they took their seats at the bar. 

“I know!” He laughed loudly again, signaling the bartender. “That was the best part. You were just sitting there, staring at Hannah. God, she probably thought you were reconsidering your stance on dating women. Don’t give her false hope, love.” 

Cas rolled his eyes and gave his order to the bartender. “I’ve spoken to Hannah before. I’m sure she understands.” 

His friend scoffed loudly and said something, but the noise of the bar drowned it out.

“What?” he asked.

“I said: You are too oblivious for your own good. I bet you haven’t even noticed that several people in this bar have been looking your way. Am I correct?” He waved his hand. “Of course I’m correct. They want to tap that, my dear.”

He frowned. Surely, he would have noticed if he had piqued someone’s interest. He had a small glance around him, and sure enough, no one was even looking his way. Cas leveled his friend with a raised eyebrow. “I believe you are incorrect.” 

Balthasar rolled his eyes. “Well, of course, they’ve lost interest. They think you are involved with me! But don’t worry, love. I’ll prove them all wrong soon enough. You’ll be swimming in dicks by the time the night is through.” 

“Balthazar…” he admonished as he watched the bartender make Balthazar’s complicated drink. “I have no interest in anyone’s genitals tonight.” 

“I’ll see about that,” his companion muttered. 

The bartender set his drink onto the wooden bar. He thanked the woman and watched as Balthazar sent her a salacious wink. “I can't be here for more than an hour.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Cassie.” He glanced around the small bar and zeroed in on a dark-skinned woman in a red dress. “I’m sure I’ll find my own way home.”

Castiel shook his head and sipped at his drink. Balthazar knew that he disapproved of his _activities_ , but despite all of their differences, they were still close. When Cas had been brought into the company, no one would speak to him. Just the idea that he was so connected with Mr. Adler — someone who was universally despised — gave them the impression that he was off-limits. Balthazar, with his flirting and constant needling, shattered that illusion. They had become unlikely friends, and while Cas was far from the most popular man in the office, he was respected. That was all he wanted. 

Lost in thought, Castiel only noticed his friend was trying to get his attention when a hand appeared in front of his face. “Earth to Cassie!”

He turned to Balthazar, a scowl firmly in place. “You know how I feel about that.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Well, if you’d just pay attention I wouldn’t have to wave my hand!”

“I’m not trying to ignore you, although it would save me stress if I did.”

His friend looped his arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “Are you alright, love? First the office, and now this?”

“I’m fine,” he stated, enough annoyance leaking into his voice that even Balthazar had to notice it. “It’s merely loud.”

His friend was frowning, and it immediately set him on edge. “But I’m right next to you. You can hear me fine now, right?”

Cas nodded and turned to his whiskey. “Of course.”

Already, he was going over his plans for the night. When Balthazar inevitably ditched him for a bed partner, he’d be able to leave and check his emails. Zachariah had pounded it into his head before he left that he’d be emailing Cas his receipts that night, and they better be in his corporate account by the time he came to work that Monday. If he was lucky, he'd be able to finish the task by the next morning, and then be able to finish the book he had started. It was only the movement of the man next to him that alerted him to the fact he was being talked to. He turned back to Balthazar and raised his eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re going to give me a complex if you keep ignoring me. Are you ok? You seem distracted.”

“I’m not distracted,” he grumbled, “it’s loud tonight, and I’m having trouble hearing you.” 

Balthazar shook his head. “They haven’t even started live music yet. Are you sure you’re ok? Don’t tell me you’re going deaf on me.”

“I’m not ‘going deaf.’ It’s always hard for me to hear in a place like this.”

An odd expression was making its way onto Balthasar's face. “What about at work? Is it hard for you there too?”

Cas sighed. “Sometimes.”

“Cassie, I’m only asking this because I’ve seen this before… are you losing your hearing?”

He pressed his lips together, hesitant to answer. “I may be experiencing a slight decline.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been losing your hearing and didn’t think to tell me!”

Cas just shrugged. Sure, he was experiencing a bit of hearing loss, but it wasn’t _bad_. Hell, he didn’t even notice it unless he was somewhere with a lot of background noise. “Everyone loses hearing as they get older.”

Balthazar snorted. “You’re in your twenties.”

Castiel cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How long has it been like this?”

Cas huffed in annoyance but answered anyway. “A few years.”

“Anything else bothering you? Achy knees? Limp dick?”

A laugh was startled out of him. “Balthazar…”

His friend smiled at him and gave his shoulders a squeeze. “Come on, anything else?”

“Just the ringing.”

Balthazar narrowed his eyes in thought. “Don’t you think that it’s not normal?”

“I’m getting older,” he stated as if that was the clear answer.

“Yeah, but hearing losses don’t start until your older. Not your twenties. My Pop had hearing issues, but he was in his sixties. That’s why I recognized the signs. He’s fine one-on-one, but put him in a crowd and he can’t hear anything. Sometimes, even when I’m standing right next to him he can’t hear me… not unless he’s looking at me. Drives my poor Nan crazy, but he can barely hear her even on a good day.”

Cas just stared at him.

“You should go and get that looked at.”

“I’ve looked it up,” he reminded Balthasar. “There was nothing to be done.”

“Oh yes, the famous Dr. Google,” he mocked. “You should see a real doctor. It can't be anything good.”

Cas looked at his friend for a moment. Balthazar really did seem concerned, and considering they were currently in a bar surrounded by beautiful men and women, the fact that Bal’s attention was focused solely on Cas really _meant_ something. “I suppose I can make an appointment.”

Despite his promise, Cas didn’t make an appointment until three weeks later. He wouldn’t have done it at all if a huge storm hadn’t rolled into town one night. The next morning Cas had woken up with horrible sinus pressure and the feeling of cotton balls stuffed into his ears. When the feeling hadn’t passed by the next morning, he’d called off work and booked a same-day appointment with his general practitioner. 

The doctor had taken one look into his ears and declared them to be perfectly fine. Cas, on the other hand, insisted that he _wasn’t_ fine. “If it’s not a build-up of ear wax, then what is it?”

His doctor smiled at him despite his put off tone. “My guess is that there is a problem in your inner ear. What I’m going to do is recommend you to an Ear Nose Throat doctor. An ENT will be more suited to your case.”

He had thanked the man and left, annoyed that he has to see yet another doctor.

It took him another week and three calls from the ENT’s office before he finally got annoyed enough to schedule an appointment. The ENT was a kind woman who took the time to talk with him and reassure him that they saw this kind of symptom all of the time. She went on to explain that they’d run a few tests with their in-house audiologist, but most likely he’d be given medication to clear up his sinuses, and that would take care of the fullness in his ears. Once the standard hearing tests were done, he was led into the ENT’s office to discuss the results.

“That’s interesting,” she finally told him after staring at a chart with X’s and O’s on it.

Cas waited a moment, trying desperately to see what she was seeing in the chart. “So?”

“You have mild to severe hearing loss in your right ear,” she explained, gesturing to the chart. One line was clearly straight and almost uniform across the top of the chart, while the other started lower and continued to slope. “Yours is unilateral, which means it only affects one ear. Have you noticed a difference in the ears?”

Thinking back to his early days at the company, Cas flushed red with embarrassment. His promotion to the head of the department meant he could delegate a lot of tasks to his interns, and one of those tasks had been answering phone calls. He’d simply forgotten. “I guess I favored my left when on the phone.”

“That makes sense,” she confirmed. “Your chart didn’t say much about your medical history. Have you ever been near an explosion?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve never been near an explosion.”

She nodded, already moving on. “Do you shoot without protection?”

“Shooting isn’t a hobby of mine.”

“You’re not a trucker, by any chance?”

“No. I work in an office. May I ask why?”

“Truckers experience high instances of unilateral hearing loss,” she explained.

“I used to listen to loud music when I was in high school,” he admitted.

“Unless you only listened to loud music out of one earbud, it wouldn’t be unilateral.”

She tapped her fingers on the wooden desk. “Using your right ear probably leads to headaches. Is that correct?”

He nodded. “Yes. The ringing in my ear is always worse when I use the phone with my right ear.”

“Tinnitus is very common and can have many triggers. Is it the same in your left?”

“It’s only in the right ear,” he clarified.

She frowned at that. “Your tinnitus is _also_ unilateral?”

“Yes, although it’s very sporadic, so I wouldn’t call it an issue. I’ve learned to tune it out long ago.”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t want to lie to you, Mr. Novak. Unilateral tinnitus is a red flag.”

He tried not to panic. “Ok. So that means…”

“It could mean many things. In order to find out, I’d like to order a test to check for nerve damage in your ear.”

An hour later, more things were being shoved into his ear, and he was more than ready to just go home. He’d even take the hearing aid if it meant leaving.

Once the test was done and the results were in, Cas was once again led into the ENT’s office. He wasn’t sure if the excited look on her face was promising or not. He’d put his money on _not_. “The nerve damage in your right ear is quite extensive.”

Cas could only sigh in exhaustion. Problem after problem were piling up, and it was leaving him feeling more defeated than ever. “What does that mean for me?”

“After going through the notes, and looking at your medical history, I’ve come to the conclusion that nothing you’ve told us about your hearing history would have caused this kind of hearing loss. It’s a very interesting case.”

“So what does that mean?” he asked dryly, readying himself to be prescribed a hearing aid he was determined to never use.

“I’d like to order an MRI.”

That caused him to pause, snapping him out of his funk. “An MRI? That is a serious test.”

She seemed to understand. “I don’t want to alarm you. An MRI is a standard procedure in situations like this. We must be sure to rule out certain…”

“Cancer,” Cas filled in, dread coiling in his stomach. “You need to be sure I don’t have cancer.”

“Amongst other things.” She rushed to add. “Sensorineural hearing loss is usually common in the aging population, but since you are so young and have no history of head trauma or Meniere's disease, we’d like to rule out any malformations, swelling, or schwannomas — tumors, that is.”

Cas let out a breath in an effort to calm his heart. “And then what?”

“Then we talk about treatment.”

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

**One week later…**

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Something was wrong. He knew the moment that he received the call from the ENT’s office. Why else would he be asked to come in and meet with her? He’s seen the movies… he knew what would happen. He could do nothing but pace, and although he knew he was frightening the people in the waiting room, he couldn’t stop.

“You look crazy,” Balthazar informed him. “Sit down.”

“Too much energy,” he grumbled.

Balthazar stood up and grabbed him. “Sit down. You need to relax.”

“I can't sit down,” he hissed. “I probably have cancer, Balthazar. You understand that, right? There's no other reason I would have been called to have a meeting like this.”

“Or,” he prompted, “maybe it isn’t cancer and you're getting a consult for a hearing aid.”

“If that’s the case, they would have had me schedule an appointment with an audiologist!”

“They have audiologists here, don’t they? It could be anything.”

“Balthazar…”

“Calm down, love.” Balthazar pulled him into a hug. “I’m here, ok? We’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” Cas grumbled into Balthazar's shoulder. Cas wanted to hope for the best, he really did, but in his heart he knew something was horribly wrong. Having his best friend with him was the only thing that was keeping him on his feet.

“Don’t thank me. You’d do the same.”

Cas opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by his name being called. They marched past the nurse's station and to the hall of offices.

“Hello, Mr. Novak,” the ENT greeted, offering him a kind smile. “Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”

Cas chose to remain silent. He and Balthazar settled into the chairs on the other side of the ENT’s desk, both eying the stack of paper in front of the woman nervously.

His silence didn’t seem to throw the doctor off at all. “I see you’ve brought someone with you today.”

“Yes. This is Balthazar. He’s a co-worker and friend.”

Balthazar reached for the doctor's hand. “Pleasure.”

“I’ve had the opportunity to go over your MRI, Mr. Novak.” She pressed a few keys on her computer and then turned to monitor to face the two of them. “This is your scan, and as you can see, there is a mass right here.”

Cas closed his eyes and exhaled, his heart sinking to his stomach. A hand gripped him, and he squeezed it back. When he opened his eyes again, he followed her finger to the scan, and as clear as day, there was a large mass. Right behind his ear.

“This must be a big shock,” she started, once the silence has stretched too thin. “The mass is called an Acoustic Schwannoma, and they grow out of your ear canal. Thankfully, Acoustic Schwanoma’s are benign, so it is just a matter of removal.”

Although his mind recognized the word benign as a good thing, his heart refused to slow in his chest, it’s thudding drowning out all else. He had a tumor in his brain. It wasn’t cancerous, but it was still there. Almost as if he could feel the mass, a tingle started behind his ear, and his breath quickened. His stomach rolled with nausea at the sensation.

“We don’t need a biopsy?” Cas heard Balthazar ask over the sound of his pulse in his ears.

“No. This specific tumor is always 100% benign. This is good news because that means you have months, not days. If this were any other tumor, we’d be booking you for surgery today.”

He knew that the mention of a few months left to live was supposed to be a good thing, but just the thought that he could be dead before the end of the year had him breaking out in sweats. The tingle behind his ear turned into a headache. “Months?” 

“Yes. While it’s benign, it is still growing. Removal still needs to take place soon. If left alone, it would kill you within one to two years. That being said, you’d start feeling the effects long before it killed you. Hearing loss is the earliest sign.”

“So removal…” Balthazar cut in, his fingers still laced with Cas’s beneath the desk. “Does that mean brain surgery?”

The doctor nodded. “Your case is quite special, Mr. Novak. This tumor usually presents in the elderly population and merely needs to be monitored due to its slow rate of growth. Most people go through their whole life never needing to get it removed.” 

“I’m not elderly, though…” Cas pressed, his voice strained and stomach still rolling. “How can I have this tumor? And if it's so slow, why will it kill me so soon?” 

“This tumor is not unheard of in someone your age, but it is not common. It is a very slow-growing tumor, Mr. Novak. In your case though…” he turned his computer and used a pen to point to the mass. “Normally, these tumors only grow into the hearing canal, but yours is growing into your brain. It is already the size of a quarter, and it will continue to grow.”

Cas’s stomach clenched uncomfortably and bile threatened to rise. “Oh, God.” 

Balthazar squeezed Cas’s hand and cleared his throat, getting the doctor’s attention. “What are his options?” 

The doctor leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. “There is only one option. Sometimes you can shoot them with gamma rays that kill the tumor, but gamma radiation turns these specific tumors malignant 100% of the time. Due to your age, I cannot recommend a gamma knife.”

Cas’s head was spinning, he could barely even follow what was being said. “So what is my option, then?”

“Surgery,” the doctor answered simply. 

He couldn’t sit still any longer. Suddenly, he was on his feet. His stiff legs carried him to the window so he wouldn’t have to look the doctor in the eye as he asked his next question. “And what does that involve?” 

“There are two options for surgery. One will preserve your hearing, and one will not.” 

Cas turned to look back at the doctor, a small speck of hope burning in his heart. “I wish to preserve my hearing.” 

“Yes, I understand,” the doctor continued, “but there is a bigger risk of complications.” 

“And those complications are?” Balthazar asked.

“We would have to go in a back way, a few inches behind your ear, to remove your tumor.” He pointed to a spot on the scan. “The problem is that this is where your facial nerve is. The chances of damaging the nerve are extremely high, I’d say around 80%, and would result in unilateral facial palsy.” 

Balthazar gasped. “Shit… like a stroke patient?” 

The doctor nodded and pointed to another spot on the scan, right where the mass was. “This is where I recommend going in. We would need to cut through the cochlea, but it would allow us to remove the tumor easily, with a low chance of complications.” 

“Cochlea?” Cas asked. “Correct me if I am wrong, but I need that to hear.” 

“Yes,” the Doctor confirmed. “The removal of your cochlea would result in complete loss of hearing in your right ear. We would remove it completely, and then place a metal plate right there.” 

Cas’s knees wobbled, and he fell into a squat. Elbows resting on his knees, he concentrated on his breathing. They wanted to remove the hearing in his right ear. “Oh.”

Balthazar was by his side in a moment. “Come on, love. Let’s get you into a chair.”

“I’m feeling a little…” he trailed off and watched the doctor get up and fill a paper cup with water for him. Once he was able to force down half of the cup, his head felt a little clearer. “And this surgery…”

The ENT picked up his train of thought. “Would need to happen soon. If at all possible, before the end of next month.”

The doctor continued talking, but Cas was unable to pay attention long enough to glean any information. Balthazar drove him home and ordered food for the both of them, never pressing Cas for conversation other than what he wanted from the Thai place.

“I don’t understand,” Cas finally said as they sat on the couch in silence, empty takeout containers littering his coffee table. “I’m so young…”

“Yes, my love. It’s not fair, but at least they can take it out.”

“At the cost of my hearing.”

“Just think of the bright side, you'll have a perfect excuse to ignore your dear uncle.”

He couldn’t bring himself to laugh at Balthazar's joke. “This could kill me.”

“It won’t, though. They are going to take it out and you’ll be back to normal in no time!”

“I could be dead in a year, and what have I done with my life?” He turned to his best friend and looked him in the eye. “What do I have to show for it?”

“Oh, dear… let me crack into that bottle of scotch I saw in your pantry.” Balthazar disappeared into Cas’s kitchen and reappeared a few minutes later with a bottle of amber liquid and two glasses. “Drink up, love.”

Cas watched as his friend poured him a few fingers, and then downed it in one gulp. The smooth liquid barely burned, leaving behind a pleasant sweetness. “Another.”

Balthazar poured again. “You have a good life, Cassie.”

He snorted. “Sure. I have a nice condo full of expensive furniture.”

“What else do you want? You make good money, love. Not everyone has that luxury.”

“Yes, but I’m lonely!” he shouted, slamming the cup down. “I’ve wasted all of my time on my career and I have no one to share all of my _rewards_ with. God, do you remember when Inias asked me out? I turned him down because I was working overtime every single night. I got the promotion, alright, but how many others have I chased away?”

Balthazar downed his own brandy. “Do you _want_ someone? You’ve never seemed bothered by it all.”

“Yes, I’m bothered. I’m _really_ fucking bothered right now because I could die. _D_ ie, Balthazar.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“I’m having _brain surgery_! Of course I could die!”

“Calm down, Cassie. Have another drink.”

He turned a glare to his best friend. “I don’t want another drink.”

“Then I’ll have another. If there's one thing I can count on, it’s that you’ll have the good stuff.” He poured himself another glass and sipped it. “Now, here's what’s going to happen: You’re going to book your surgery, and take a couple of months off for your medical leave. If you’re as miserable as you say you are, take that time to _fix things._ ”

“Fix things?” 

“Yes, fix it. You’re lonely? Make yourself a dating profile, and stop spending so much time at work.” 

Cas rolled his eyes. “Just like that?”

“Yes, it's that simple. With your looks, you’ll have men begging for your dick.”

That night, Cas sat in bed, unable to sleep. Surprisingly he wasn’t thinking about his tumor, although it wasn’t far from his mind. As he glanced around his modern bedroom with its light blue walls and espresso stained wooden furniture, and as he stared at the shelf full of books that he hadn’t had the time to read, he thought only of his missed opportunities. He made six figures at his job and his beachside condo was worth $2.3 million, but he had a job he hated, with a boss he couldn’t stand, and only one real friend.

When had he lost sight of what was important? When had he decided to place his job over his happiness? How had he allowed himself to get so far in life while only having a nice house to show for it?

With shaking hands, Cas picked up his cellphone and dialed a number he had memorized long ago.

“Hello?” A quiet voice answered.

Cas had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Dad? It’s Castiel…”

“Cas?” His father breathes out the name reverently. “Is that you, my little angel?”

He couldn’t hold back the tears and burst into a sob. “Dad…”

“Oh no.” Cas heard shuffling on the other end. “What happened?”

Castiel cried even harder. He hadn’t seen nor talked to his dad in a decade, and suddenly he was overwhelmed with guilt. His dad, who had every reason to hang up on him, just called him his little angel. No ‘Where have you been?’ or ‘Do you know what time it is?’ just a nickname that hadn’t been used since he was thirteen.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasped into the phone, trying to get his breathing under control. “It's late, I should let you go.”

“My boy…” he muttered softly. “I’ll always have time for you. Tell me what's wrong.”

“I’m sorry, dad, it's just…” he sniffed loudly and cleared his throat. “I was at the doctor's, and I just got some bad news.”

“Do you need me to come? I can book a flight now.”

He half laughed, half sobbed into the receiver. “You don’t even know where I live.”

Chuck huffed. “I’m booking a flight to LAX and then I’ll find you from there. I’ll hire a private detective if I need to. If you think I’m not coming to see my son…”

“Dad…”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Chuck murmured. “I’m coming, ok? I’m going to see you through this.”

“Thank you,” he whispered into the phone. “You don’t even know what's wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter what's wrong,” he answered, “my boy needs me.”

“I have a brain tumor,” he whispered.

Chuck didn’t say anything for a moment. “I’m booking my flight right now.”

Cas wiped his tears and gripped the phone harder. “I can pick you up from the airport.”

“Are you ok to drive?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “It's benign, so…”

“Thank god,” his father whispered into the phone. “I can fly out in a week.”

“Thank you.” He squeezed his eyes shut and crossed his fingers. “Is your wife coming?”

“No, Becky wont be coning.”

Cas sighed in relief. “Ok.”

“I know things have been…” he trailed off. “I just want you to know that I love you, and you’re still my boy.”

“I love you too Dad.” He forced himself to end the call soon after. With a heavy heart, he put his phone to charge and tried to get some sleep.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Balthazar was an angel. That was the only explanation for why he’d insisted on accompanying Cas to his follow up appointment four days later. When he’d expressed his worry over Balthazar missing work, he just scoffed. “I have enough sick days saved up, Cassie. Don’t worry about it.” And that was it. Case closed. Castiel didn’t really know what he’d do without his best friend. His father wasn’t going to be flying in until the following day, and he didn’t want to go to the appointments alone.

His first appointment was with an audiologist so he could discuss the option of a hearing aid. At first, he didn’t see the point. From what he understood, his cochlea would be completely removed, so a hearing aid would do absolutely nothing.

“We do have hearing aids that you would find useful,” she began. “The BAHA, for example, would be worn on the deaf side and transmit the sound through bone conduction to your good cochlea. It stands for Bone Anchored Hearing Aid, so your metal plate would be fitted with a screw that your BAHA would attach to, and the skin will heal around it.”

Just the thought made him nauseous, and he shot it down immediately.

She nodded in understanding. “Well, you’re young enough that the other ear will adjust. You might run into problems later in life, but I think you could do quite well without one.”

He thanked her profusely for not pressuring him into getting one, and the next thing he knew, he was booking his surgery.

Despite knowing that they would want to fast track his operation, he was still shocked that they wanted him in the following week. The short timeline was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because he had less time to think about it all, and a curse because it only gave him 8 days to settle things with work.

Uncle Zach was the first person he called. Immediately the man threw a fit. “You can't be taking time off, Castiel. You have too much work on your plate and if you get behind I'm afraid you might not be able to catch back up.”

Annoyed and frustrated with his uncle’s condescending tone and lack of trust in his ability, he snapped, “I wasn’t asking. I haven’t taken more than a handful of days off in my entire time with this company. I _will_ be gone for as long as I need.”

“I’ll give you a week at the most.”

“I will escalate this, Mr. Adler. Letting you know is just a courtesy,” Castiel growled in warning. “This is medical leave. I’m taking time off, and you have no choice but to let me.”

“Why?”

“This is a personal matter. I’ll be taking a medical leave of absence, so any details will only be discussed with HR and my superior. You are neither.”

Zachariah let out a huff. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you’re repaying me? With this attitude? I’ve done everything I could to help you succeed and won't even tell your own uncle why you’re taking all of this time off?” 

Recognizing the manipulation for what it was, Cas was furious. Zachariah had given him the job out of college, but _he_ was the one who worked his way up. _Castiel_ was the one who put in the long hours and crawled his way to the top. He glanced around his living room and zeroed in on the picture frame nailed to one of the walls. A younger version of himself and his father smiled back at him, Castiel proudly holding a rainbow trout up for the picture. It was then he knew he had a choice to make. “I’ll be contacting my superior about my medical leave. Goodbye, Mr. Adler.”

He put his cellphone on silent and walked over to the picture.

It was crazy.

Absolutely insane.

He had a life in California. A job. He had a beachside condo. And he hated all of it.

He desperately tried to think of something he’d miss if he moved back to Kansas, and only Blathazar’s face popped into his head. The longer he thought about it, the more he realized that he _didn’t_ want his job. He didn’t want his empty house. He didn’t want to be under the thumb of his uncle and constantly have to bend over backward for that asshole.

With shaking hands, he lifted the frame off the wall and examined it closer. He remembered that day. He and his dad had gone to the lake for a few days with the intention of campfire cooking and hiking. What actually happened was a rainstorm and three days of catching nothing. On the last day, he and his father had tried one last time to catch themselves dinner, and finally, four hours into their effort, Castiel had finally gotten a nibble.

Before his parents split, he had loved Kansas. The people were kind, the pace was slow, and the food was stick-to-your-bones good. He missed it. He missed his father. He’d be able to get a well-paying job if he moved back to Kansas. He was sure of it. And even if he didn’t, selling his monstrosity of a condo would get him enough to live off of for a few years if he was careful. He replaced carefully, letting the back hook catch on the nail. He’d have an entire month to plan; for now, he had a guest bedroom to prepare.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m very grateful for the love everyone has shown this fic! I’ve mentioned in a few of the comment replies, but the tumor Cas has is an Acoustic Schwannoma, and it’s the same tumor my husband was diagnosed with 10 years ago. As the ENT stated in the first chapter, it is very rare for this tumor to happen in someone so young, and it is also very rare for it to grow into the brain. I met my husband three months after his surgery, so a lot of the issues Cas will experience are the same as my husband’s experiences.
> 
> On another note, I planned on posting this on Sunday, but my city has been under stay at home orders since March 23 and time has lost all meaning. That being said, the third chapter is about halfway done and I hope to have it up before a week has passed.
> 
> Stay healthy!

Cas’s problems with his family went back further than when he decided to leave home and never look back.

When Castiel was thirteen, his mother filed for divorce.

He couldn’t say he hadn’t seen it coming. If Chuck and Naomi didn’t end the day with a screaming fit, it would be considered a miracle. He had a vague recollection of his parents being happy together, hugging and kissing, but once he was old enough to hold onto memories, it had already turned into snide comments and passive-aggressive taunts.

They hadn’t been happy.

_He_ hadn’t been happy.

It had almost been a relief when they had sat him down and informed him that they had already filed the paperwork. The divorce was happening, they told him, there was only the matter of dealing with _him_. They hadn’t said it like that, of course, but he knew what they meant. Despite what he had imagined, they _were_ trying to keep the divorce amicable, and due to his age, they were trying to keep custody issues out of it. It was decided, then, that he would switch back and forth every month. It was frustrating at times, but it worked.

When Castiel was fourteen, Castiel’s father got a girlfriend.

He was under no illusion that both his parents hadn’t jumped back into the dating world. His mother never brought anyone around, and she tried to hide it from him, but he _knew_. Chuck, on the other hand, dated openly. He knew about most of Chuck’s dates, but Becky had been the only one he’d ever officially introduced Castiel to.

Becky had been an interesting choice for his father. While he was the quiet unassuming type, she was peppy and outgoing. Where he wanted to stay home and work on his novels and other hobbies, she wanted to entertain guests and go on walks in the park. Despite all of their differences, they seemed to work. She drew him out of his shell, and he kept her grounded.

Castiel had been conflicted about her. While she made his father happy, she seemed unstable, both professionally and emotionally. She bounced from job to job, trying her hands at several multi-level marketing companies. First was the oils, then the children's book, then the cheap jewelry, and finally — and he shudders at the memory — the adult novelty items.

He’d never forget when he came home early from tutoring one day and walked in on Becky showing off several _toys_ to a group of middle-aged women. He’s known she hosted parties, it was the only way she could sell the stuff after all, but he had never seen it in person.

His relationship with both of them went downhill from there.

When Castiel was fifteen, he ran away from home.

He’d had enough of both of them. His mother’s constant bitterness that his father had ‘moved on.’ His father's insistence that he just had to ‘give Becky a chance.’ The constant pressure he was getting to succeed in his advanced placement classes. The piles of homework he was constantly battling. The confused and slightly disappointed look on his mother’s face when he’d finally worked up the nerve to tell her that he liked _boys_. The ‘Are you sure?’ and the ‘Let’s talk to pastor Jim about it…’ he’d gotten from her shortly after.

He was done with it all.

A sleeping bag, his backpack stuffed with clothes, and $47 were all he had when he left his mother’s home on Thursday night. He’d walked the street for hours, trying to put as much space between him and the house as he could, and then hopped onto a bus. He made it three towns over before he was too exhausted to continue and then fell asleep behind a bush curled into his sleeping bag. He’d woken up hungry and desperate to use the restroom. Eventually, he found himself at a diner and ordered himself a coffee, muffin, and side of hashbrowns. He ate slowly, savoring his meal.

The cops caught up to him one state over and he was back by the following Tuesday, dirty, hungry, and still bitter.

When Castiel was seventeen, his father remarried.

He had gone to the wedding, stood next to his father and watched as he dedicated his life to a woman for the second time. He’d smiled for the pictures, and wished them the best, but he’d never call her mother.

When Castiel was eighteen, he moved out of the house and never looked back.

His job at the local coffee shop barely covered his expenses. He hadn’t realized just how expensive it was to live on his own. Car insurance, gas, food, phone, new clothes when his old ones wore out, rent at the apartment that was absolutely packed full of college students, and other expenses depleted his account and made it impossible to build any kind of savings. Living paycheck to paycheck just added to the stress of being a college student with not enough time in the day.

Despite all of the obstacles, he put himself through school and got a job using Uncle Adler’s connections.

Now, Castiel was twenty-eight and meeting with his father for the first time in ten years.

He hadn’t known what to expect. The last words he had spoken to his father were tainted with anger. He had stormed out of the house, proudly proclaiming he didn’t need his father, and then set out to prove it. Not a word had been spoken between them since. That is, until a week ago. After that first phone call, they had kept in tentative contact. His father would text him throughout the day, asking what he was up to or for updates on information his doctors were giving him, and in return, Cas would ask Chuck about his day. He’d enquire after his wife, what his friends were up to, and ask about restaurants and businesses he remembered from his hometown. The bonds were reforming, and Cas was full of hope at the thought of their future.

The arrivals gate was packed, as it usually was, with families and friends waiting to be reunited. As the passengers slowly trickled out, he watched as they embraced. Was that how he would greet his dad? With an awkward nod? A hug? A firm handshake? His thoughts spiraled until he convinced himself that his father had changed his mind, and never got on the plane to LAX in the first place. It wasn’t until he saw his father bypass the line of people waiting for the baggage and head his way that he let out his sigh of relief. Chuck hadn’t changed much in the years they hadn’t spoken. He still wore cargo pants and a t-shirt, and he still traveled with a ratty old backpack stuffed to capacity, but the salt and pepper in his hair and beard were definitely new.

Like a magnet, he was drawn into motion. The space between them was like a countdown in his head. Twenty feet, fifteen, and then far too soon, just a few feet separated him from his estranged father. Chuck’s brown eyes met his, already dewy with moisture, and Cas stared back, equal parts terrified and elated.

Finally, he took in a breath and forced out some words. “Hello, dad.”

Chuck made a noise, part sob, and gripped Cas’s shoulders, drawing him into a tight hug. Cas’s back cracked and his teeth clicked together at the impact, but he wrapped his arms around his father's smaller form and hugged back with all he had. The scent of leather and wood assaulted his senses, bringing back memories of his father's leatherworking shop he would sit in as a child, watching his father craft bags and belts. His mind was transported back to a time he was happier and the only thing he had to worry about was whether his mom was going to make meatloaf for dinner again. Tears welled in his eyes and he hugged his father back impossibly harder.

“My son…” Chuck whispered into his ear and pulled back, hands braced on Cas’s shoulders so he could get a good look at him. “You’ve gotten so big.”

“Finally bigger than you.”

Chuck huffed. “I always knew you’d be bigger than me. Took after your mother, didn’t you?”

With a small smile, Cas finally began leading his dad to the car park. “Are you hungry? I’d like to take you out for lunch.”

“Sure. Are you going to show me around the city?”

“If you’d like,” Cas hedged. “I can take you to a few of my favorite places, but with my work schedule, I hardly get to go out and enjoy the sights myself.”

“I understand. You’ve taken this week off, haven’t you?”

“I wasn’t able to get more than today off. There were too many things I needed to wrap up before I left for the surgery.”

Chuck stopped him with a hand on his bicep. “They can't manage without you?”

“I intend to take two months off to recover. That’s a lot of loose ends.”

“Sounds like you work a lot.”

“That’s what my friend tells me. He’ll be stopping sometime after the surgery. I think you’ll like him.”

“He sounds like a smart man.”

“Don’t tell him that.” He joked. Chuck smiled at him in amusement, and Cas knew things were going to be alright.

The drive to the restaurant was spent in silence, both unsure of the new dynamic of their relationship. When Cas pulled into the parking lot of his favorite Mexican restaurant, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I hope this is ok. They make dulce de leche filled churros, and…”

His father smiled at him in understanding, immediately guessing that Cas needed a pick me up before his surgery the next morning. “Of course! I love Mexican food. Did you know a Mexican restaurant opened a few blocks from my house? I haven’t tried it yet, but I’ve wanted to.”

They were seated almost immediately and given their menus. Cas, who only ever got their carne asada fajitas and an order of churros, waited patiently for his father to finish perusing his options.

“So…” his father began once he’d decided on the grilled chicken burrito and they placed their orders with the waitress. “You work for Zachariah, right?”

“Despite what he likes to think, I work beside him and not under him. I’m the head accountant, and Uncle Alder is in public relations.”

Chuck snorted. “Public relations? I would have never guessed. Is he still a dick?”

For the first time all week, Cas laughed. Adler had been making his life hell. Budgets were sent to his team with missing information, thinly veiled threats were made about losing his job, and plenty of glares had been thrown his way. On his way out of the office yesterday, Alder had the nerve to joke loudly about Cas taking vacation time. It took everything he had to keep walking and not turn around and set the record straight. “Yes, he is.”

“I don’t know how you do it. Seeing him was the worst part of those family reunions your mother used to drag us to.”

“I hated those too.”

Chuck smirked at him. “I know. Remember the time we ditched halfway through for milkshakes?”

The fond memory filled his heart. “Yeah, I do. We did that a few times, actually.”

He chuckled lightly. “Your mother was so mad. We used to have a lot of fun, didn’t we?”

“Yes, we did.” The waitress came and dropped off their plates, giving him a moment to form the words he wanted to say. “Hey, Dad?”

Chuck looked up, his cheeks full of food. With a heavy swallow, he set down his fork and gave Cas his attention. “Yes, son?”

“I’d like to do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Get milkshakes with you at the shake shop. The one that mixes in the malt powder.”

Chuck’s eyes lit up. “I’d love for you to visit! You know you’re always welcome…”

“Thank you, but that’s not what I want.” He took a deep breath. “I’m thinking of _moving_ back to Lawrence.”

“What?”

Cas let out a sigh. “I’m not happy here. I want to go home.”

“You want to come home with me?” Chuck cleared his throat, swallowing roughly, and sat straight in his chair. “You want to come home… permanently?”

“I’m seriously considering it. I hate my job, I don’t have many friends, and I… I miss you. I miss the creek behind the house, and the park mom used to take me to.”

His dad continued to stare at him, eyes wide and unblinking. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I would love that, angel.”

He let out the breath that he had been holding. “I would need to recover from the surgery first, and give my boss the proper notice, but with everything going on I've finally had time to think about my life. I want to do better — _be_ better and I think that means leaving. California is lovely, and the weather is great, but…”

Chuck reached out to take Cas’s hand in the middle of the table. “You are always welcome with me, son. You can even have your old room until you settle down. It will be just like the old times!”

Well, Cas hoped it wouldn’t be _exactly_ like the old times. “That sounds great, Dad.”

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Cas stared at the hair trimmer in his hand, unable to think of anything else other than the fact that he was about to shave his head for the first time in his entire life. He wasn’t a vain man. He cared little for his own appearance other than shaving regularly for work and making sure he kept his ties clean. Balthazar could attest to his lack of vanity and would bring up his wrinkled suits and messy hair as exhibit A and B. Still, he didn’t want to shave his head. Objectively, he knew it was just hair and that it would grow back, and he knew that if he didn’t shave his head, the large patch they would shave for the surgery would look even worse, but still…

He stared at his father’s reflection in the mirror, perched on the edge of the bathtub. “This is harder than I thought.”

“Want me to do it?”

Cas loosened his grip on the device and passed it over to his father.

“It’s going to be fine, son. I’m sure you’ll look great.” he flipped the switch and it buzzed to life. “Want me to give you a mohawk? I remember you asked for one once upon a time…”

“I was a freshman in high school.” He defended. “I thought it would make me popular.”

“It probably would have. Ready?”

He said nothing, only nodded and watched as his father immediately set to the task of ridding Cas of all his hair. Cas watched the first pass of the trimmers, watched as his hair fell onto the counter in clumps, and then he closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch the rest.

The skin on his head got increasingly colder as his thick hair was cut away. His ears were moved as the trimmers were passed over every nook and cranny, and he shivered at the alien sensation. The vibrations of the trimmers against his head stopped an eternity later — or was it in an instant? He didn’t want to open his eyes and see how ridiculous he looked, but he knew he had to. It was done, and his hair was gone.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, he opened his eyes and zeroed in on his reflection. He stared at himself in the mirror, bald and strange, and couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter. “I look like an egg.”

His father smiled at his reflection. “A very handsome egg.”

Cas ran his hands over his head, feeling the stubble on his palms and the strange sensation of skin on skin. He turned his head this way and that, examining himself from all angles. At least he didn’t have a weird shaped head, he thought to himself. It wasn’t that bad, truly. Sure, he had a very clear tan line where his forehead met his now hairless skull, but a few hours in the sun would take care of it easily. He turned to look at his right ear. That was where the tumor was. They were going to knock him out, cut into his skull, scoop the tumor out, put a small amount of his own stomach fat into the hole, put a metal plate onto the hole, and sew him back up. It was a nauseating thought.

He forced his hands to his sides and turned from his reflection. His father was still watching him, no doubt worried about his current mental state. Instead, Cas forced a small smile. “I need to pack a bag for the hospital. Would you give me a minute?”

Chuck watched him for a few more seconds, but nodded and left. Alone, he walked out of his ensuite and into his bedroom, all but collapsing onto his bed. He was due to arrive at the House Clinic in two hours, where he would be admitted, prepped for surgery, and then given what Balthasar called ‘the good stuff.’ Hopefully, when he woke up the tumor would be gone. He had to push thoughts of his surgery out of his mind. With a fortifying breath, he stood and pulled a comfortable set of clothes from his dresser.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Cas doesn’t remember much after waking up from surgery. He remembers the sensation of waking from a full night's rest. He remembers low voices and a rough hand petting his head, brushing softly over his forehead and onto his stubbly skull. He remembers opening his eyes to bright lights, his vision too blurry to make out anything. He remembers not feeling very different despite his drugged up brain knowing that deep down, something was wrong. He remained awake long enough for a nurse to check his vitals, and then he was asleep again.

The second time he awoke was different. There were sharp lights and groans of pain. He let out a moan, and the stroking hand was back, calming him. He remembers the strange feeling of ice running through his veins, up his arm, into his shoulder, and turning into bliss somewhere in his brain. His mind quieted after that and he drifted. Familiar voices spoke quietly at his bedside, and strange hands touched and moved him, performing tests and taking vitals. He remembers gasping awake and blinking at the fluorescent light above his head, and then immediately emptying stomach bile onto his lap.

The second day, he’s more lucid. Finally, he can open his eyes for a few moments without pain shooting straight into his brain. His father is at his bedside, sprawled in an armchair and snoring quietly. The double vision made his father’s form swim in front of him, swaying left and right until his stomach turned and his eyes snapped shut. They stayed closed, secure in the fact that he wasn’t alone.

When his stomach settled, he turned his neck from side to side but was stopped by the dressing bandaged onto the side of his head. By the feel of it, his incision must have been covered in inches of gauze, feeling both numb and tingly under the thick dressing. He fell back to sleep and woke up later to the sight of his father typing away on his phone, still in that same chair. Chuck is startled by the low grumbled “Dad” that Cas utters, but is up in a second, leaning over the railing and pulling him into a soft hug.

“Welcome back,” his dad muttered, and although he could feel the puffs of air as his father spoke into his neck, his voice sounded far away. Belatedly, he realized it was because his father was speaking to his right ear. Where he expected to receive sound was no longer there, cut away during the surgery. It’s a strange feeling, similar to the times his headphones had broken and his music was only being played in one ear. It must have been the drugs, but he immediately thought that the surround sound in his head had been switched off.

He turned his head to angle his ear towards his dad, and could suddenly hear his dad’s gently breathing. “Did they get it?”

“Yes, son. They removed it all.”

Cas let out a sigh of relief. It was done. The tumor was gone along with half his hearing, but he was alive. He would live past the end of the year and go on to have a fulfilling life. “Good.” A wave of tiredness washed over him and he rode it under.

The next time he woke a nurse walked in, delighted that he was up and able to answer questions. Finally, he’s allowed to place an order for breakfast: oatmeal and honey that taste like cardboard on his tongue. Breakfast is followed by a procession of nurses, and then finally the surgeon. The gauze is slowly peeled back and his stitches are examined closely, and judging by his pleased expression and positive words, the incision was healing nicely.

Hours later, a nurse bustled in to check the bag attached to the side of the bed, reminding him that he had a catheter in. He immediately inquired about its removal but was told in no uncertain terms that if he wanted it removed, he'd have to prove he could walk to the bathroom himself. In a fit of pride and stupidity, he pushed himself up and stood on his own two feet, determined to walk himself to the bathroom if it was the last thing he did. Immediately, vertigo set in and he was reminded that he no longer had two balance nerves, just one trying to do the work of both. His head swam and his world tilted, but he gripped the side of his bed for balance and started a slow shuffle to the door he knew enclosed a small private bathroom.

Chuck grasped at his elbow and fussed, pleading for Cas to return to his bed, but he was determined to get the catheter removed. With Chuck shadowing his every step, he fought back nausea and reached the bathroom. Drawn by the commotion, a nurse rushed in and called for the doctor. Eventually, he was returned to his bed and surrendered to his exhaustion. They removed the catheter an hour later.

The third day of recovery brought a visitor. Being weaned off of morphine was exhausting and he spent most of the morning in and out of sleep. The pain that had been kept at bay by the strong opioid was slowly returning, and combined with exhaustion it was overwhelming. He was given strong Ibuprofen instead, and while it wasn’t the immediate relief of morphine, it worked to dull the aches and pains. Sometime after the sun had reached its peak, he woke to the sound of conversation. He forced his eyes open, squinting into the blinding light being reflected off of the white walls, and zeroed in on Balthasar sitting at his bedside. He made a small noise of pain and drew the attention of both men.

“Are you ok?” his dad asked, finger already on the call button.

He nodded slowly and closed his eyes against the light. The pain was coming and going, but the light sensitivity and double vision were constant. He couldn’t open his eyes without a shock of pain going directly to his brain. The doctor told him it would lessen over the coming week and by the time his first checkup rolled around it would be gone completely.

Two Blathazar’s suddenly appeared above him, leaning over the bed railing and looking him in the eye. “You look like shit, my dear.”

He closed his eyes and let out a pathetic groan, swallowing dryly until he felt like he could speak. “Having someone poke at your brain will do that to you.”

“You sound just as bad as you look, which is saying something because it sounds like you swallow rocks on a _good_ day.” He took Cas’s hand and pressed a paper cup into his palm, waiting patiently until Cas was able to force his fingers to close.

“Thank you,” he deadpanned before taking a small sip to wet his throat. He turned to address his father. “Can I have a moment with Balthazar?”

“Of course.”

Once his father was gone, he let out a sigh. “It feels like they took out more than a tumor. I can’t hold onto a thought for longer than a minute, and I haven’t been able to taste anything since I woke up.”

“Must have scrambled things a bit when they were in there. How’s it healing?”

“The doctor says it’s healing nicely, but I can’t see the side of my head so I can’t confirm.”

“Can I watch them change the dressing?”

“If you insist.”

He smirked at Cas. “Oh, I do. I’ll take pictures for you if you want. I’m sure you’d love to document everything, including this lovely haircut you’ve given yourself.”

“You’ve always known how to flatter me.”

“How’s the ear?”

Cas shrugged. “It's not too bad, I suppose. I can still hear, obviously, but you must remember to speak on my left side or else I might not hear you.”

“So, you can’t hear _anything_ on that side?”

“Nothing.”

“Not even a whisper?”

“Bal, they took out my cochlea.”

“Still…what if I—” he reached out and snapped his fingers next to the bandage and stared at Cas expectantly. “Did you hear that?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Yes, I did.”

“So you can still hear?”

“I still have one normally functioning ear.”

“Yeah, and now you have an excuse to ignore me.”

Cas smiled in spite of himself. “Enough of that. Tell me about Mr. Adler”

“Your dear uncle is trying to convince everyone you’re skiving off work.”

He sighed in annoyance. “I knew he was mad, but…”

“No one believes him, of course, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. Last I heard, he was inferring you were taking a cruise to the Bahamas. Even I was a little jealous of you. When this is all over, shall we book a cruise?”

“Maybe once summer is here.”

“Good idea. I don’t want to miss all of the girls in bikinis.” He sighed wistfully. “There will be plenty of men in speedos for you as well, my friend.”

His headache was getting worse as they spoke. “Can you press my call button? I think I’m ready for another round of painkillers.”

“I’ll handle this.” He took a step towards the door. “I noticed a beautiful brunette in scrubs as I came in and I’m sure she’d love to help.”

“Balthazar!” he chided, but his friend was already gone to bother the poor nurse.

Chuck reentered at Balthazar’s exit. “Your friend seems interesting.”

“That’s a nice way to describe him.”

“When are you going to tell him you’re moving?”

“Today.”

“I heard a little bit of what he said. Is Adler really telling people you’re on vacation?”

“Balthazar wouldn’t lie about that, and I have no doubt Zachariah hates me enough to say those things.”

“Does he know about the surgery?”

“No, and it's none of his business.”

“Have you told your mother?”

Cas closed his eyes against the look in his father's eyes. “No, and I’d appreciate it if you would keep this to yourself.”

“Angel…”

“It's my choice, dad. Please leave it be.”

Chuck let out a sigh that sounded disapproving. “If that’s what you want.”

They sat in silence until Balthazar returned with a flushed nurse carrying a cup with two pills. She handed it to Cas, watched him swallow, and left without once looking Balthazar's way.

“What did you say to her?”

Balthazar's eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bal… she’s in charge of making sure I get my painkillers. Please don’t make her upset.”

“I would _never._ I merely asked her out.”

“Poor woman,” Cas grumbled.

Chuck stood and arched his back in a stretch. “Visiting hours are almost over. Mind if I head back?”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

He walked over and placed a light kiss on Cas’s forehead. “Goodnight, son.”

Balthazar watched him leave, shutting the door behind him. “Isn’t that the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen?”

Cas glared at him. “Don’t say another word.”

“I wish my pop were around to give me bedtime kisses…”

“You can leave too.”

“And my mum would tuck me in every night…” his smirk slid off his face. “I can’t believe I’m actually missing my mum, right now. That woman was an absolute twat.”

Any other time, Cas would have made a joke about the apple not falling far from the tree, but he knew it wasn’t the time. “Time heals, or so they say.”

“You have your dad back in your life, so I suppose it does.”

“Not all wounds,” he replied, thinking of his mother and how she was never quite the same after he came out to her. “But I’m trying to — as you so tactfully put it — ‘be better.’”

“You’re taking my advice? This is a day for the history books.”

A small smile wormed its way onto Cas’s face. “They must have scooped some brain out along with the tumor if I’m implying you were correct in any way.”

“I think I’ll have a word with your doctor,” he snickered. “But in all seriousness, are you ok?”

“I’ve been thinking about the fragility of life.”

“Oh, lord. Save me.”

“I could have been dead within the year, Bal, and would have had nothing to show for it.”

“Not again with this. Didn’t I tell you to fix your life if you were miserable?”

“I’ve decided to take your advice.”

“Oh? Can I write your tinder bio?”

“I didn’t download tinder.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’ve decided to move.”

Balthazar froze. “You’re moving?”

“Yes, I’m quitting my job and moving.”

He leaned forward in his seat and took Cas’s hand. “Where to?”

“I’m moving back to Kansas.”

He nodded, his eyes staring out the window in thought. “When?”

“Ideally, I’d like to leave when my father does. Two months, perhaps.”

“You’re not returning to work?”

Cas let out a tired sigh. “I’d rather not.”

“And you’re serious about this?”

“Yes.”

“What about all of your coworkers? They’d miss you…”

Cas was able to read between the lines. “I’d visit every once in a while. Perhaps a couple of times a year.”

“What if they didn’t think that was enough?”

He stared at his friend and saw the genuine sadness in his eyes. They’d been inseparable for years, and despite their differences, Balthazar was the only one he could trust. He was _sure_ it was the same for his friend. “I don’t know what to say…”

“This is all very sudden.”

He let his eyes slip shut, willing away the moisture that threatened his eyes. He felt like he was breaking up with him. “I know.”

“Seeing you a couple of times a year isn’t enough.”

“I know,” he repeated.

“There's only one solution.”

“Oh?”

“Shall we put in our resignations together? I’d love to cause a bit of a stir…”

Cas’s throat was tight with emotion. “Bal… you’d hate it in Kansas.”

“If there are men and women in cowboy boots walking about, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“You’ll hate the humidity.”

Don’t worry about me, I’ll cope by walking around naked most of the time.’”

“But your job…”

“It was boring, anyway. Perhaps I’ll open a yoga studio.”

“Do you even know yoga?”

He shrugged. “It can’t be that hard.”

“Balthazar, you can’t quit your job and move just because I am. Be reasonable.”

He smirked at that. “When have I ever been _reasonable_? I’ve never done a reasonable thing in my entire life.”

A nurse walked in moments later to inform Balthazar that visiting hours were over. When she was gone, he turned his attention back to his best friend. “Take some time and think about it, ok? I would never ask you to move across the country just because I was.”

“I don’t recall you ever asking,” he quipped. “I make my own decisions.”

A few minutes later he was alone, and despite the headache it would surely bring, he let the tears fill his eyes.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Going home was a long affair. He had to listen to discharge instructions, make additional appointments, be wheeled to the waiting car despite his ability to walk, and be subjected to his father’s nervous chatter as the man drove him home. He spent the car ride slipping in and out of sleep, and when his father helped him into his room, he immediately fell back asleep.

At the hospital, he was too drugged up to notice too many of the side effects of having one working ear, but at home in the absence of distractions in the form of nurses and machines whirring in the background, the difference was stark. He’d imagined losing one hundred percent of his hearing in one ear would be similar to having cotton balls stuffed in his ear, an almost physical feeling. In reality, it was the opposite. There was something missing, both literally and figuratively, like there was a black hole in his ear, sucking up all sound but relaying none.

He spent the first three days at home in the same fashion as the hospital, mostly sleeping and with food being delivered to his bed by his harried father. In between eating and taking his pain killers, he busied himself with reading and catching up on a few television shows. He tested the limitations of his new hearing, turning his head and finding out how much he could actually hear when his good ear was facing away from the source of sounds. It was, surprisingly, a lot. Even with his good ear facing away from the television, he heard a great deal and it filled him with hope that his life would be mostly unaffected. He supposed it would be different in the world outside his quiet condo, with the constant sound of cars and other people talking, but back in his quiet hometown, he knew that he would somehow cope.

That all changed on the third day home when his father had to yell to get his attention while he was watching tv. Suddenly, he realized that if his hearing had been bad in a noisy room before, he’d be all but useless now. That was cemented in his head the very next day when he took a trip to the grocery store and was yelled at by a rude older woman for standing in her way. According to her, she had been asking him to move, and he had been completely ignoring her. It was on the tip of his tongue to explain why he hadn’t heard her, but he kept his mouth shut and walked away, allowing her to yell at his back and continuing making a scene.

The first time Cas’s cell phone rang and he couldn’t locate the device was jarring. He resorted to slowly rotating himself in a circle, desperately trying to find the source of the sound with one ear, until he found it under the jeans he’d carelessly tossed onto his bed. Balthazar, at least, though it was amusing.

One memorable day, Balthazar had come over for a visit while Cas had been binging a tv show and launched into the story of his most bar adventure. With the tv in the background, Balthazar’s increasingly enthusiastic chatter, the radio playing in the kitchen, and Chuck’s phone conversation taking place in the hall, he snapped. Without warning, he got to his feet, turned on his heel, and marched to his bedroom, practically slamming his door in his haste to get some quiet.

A few moments later, a timid knock sounded at his door. Balthazar stood on the other side guiltily. “Sorry, love.”

Cas ushered him in. “It wasn’t you. I feel like my ear is running a marathon it didn’t train for! The tv was on, I could hear the radio and two separate conversations at the same time. I’m effectively deaf!”

Balthazar sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. “We’ll get through this, alright?”

“I know.” He groaned. “I didn’t expect things to be so difficult. My dad is having a hard time understanding that I can’t hear _anything_ in my right ear.”

“We’re here for you, ok? We might not understand, but we’re trying.”

“I know, trust me. I’m extremely grateful for both of you, but if I get one more question about what I can hear…”

“It’s hard to imagine.”

“Do me a favor and hold out your hand.”

Balthazar held it out, but not before giving him a look. “Don’t do anything strange.”

“I won’t. Now, look at your hand.” Balthazar squinted at him and did as he was told. “I have as much hearing in my right ear as you have in that hand.”

He continued staring at his hand for a moment, before looking back up at him with raised eyebrows. “That was a surprisingly helpful example.”

Castiel chuckled warmly at his friend and allowed himself to be led back to the front room. With the tv and radio off, he could function again and was able to listen to Balthazar explain how his night had gone.

A week after his surgery, his stitches were due to be removed. They had itched and pulled, made showering difficult, and it was impossible to sleep on his right side. When they were finally gone and he was able to get an unobstructed view of his new scar, he knew right away that it would be hard to hide with his usual haircut. His corporate job had forced him early on to keep it short on the sides and groomed on top, but if he continued that trend, the long curved line a little less than an inch behind his ear would be clearly visible.

Cas tried to imagine himself with his hair just long enough to cover it, tips just beginning to wave in a way vaguely reminiscent of his high school days. His mother had hated the perpetual bedhead, but nothing short of saturating it with gel would tame it. The memory made him smile, and he was determined to bring his hair back to its messy glory.

At home, he stepped closer to his bathroom mirror, examining every detail of the surgery site. The scar was slightly raised and pink from the irritation of getting the stitches removed, and ran the entire curve behind his ear.

Balthazar stepped up beside him. “Scars are dangerous, love. The boys will love it. You can tell them you got bitten by a shark.”

“It’s an odd place for a shark bite. Even I could come up with a better one than that.”

“Like what?”

Cas leveled him with a look. “I’m not going to lie. I had brain surgery…isn’t that an interesting enough story?”

“You’re no fun.”

“That is quickly becoming your catchphrase.”

“That’s because you’re no fun.”

“Either way, no one will see it. I’m growing my hair out and in a month, it will be hidden.”

His eyes lit up. “You’re growing it out? Please tell me you’re going for the Fabio look.”

“No.”

“I’m sure long flowing locks will look lovely.”

Cas rolled his eyes and left the bathroom with Balthazar following loudly behind him, commenting on his pretty eyes and how nice ringlet curls would look on him.

Things were still strange. Even three weeks after his surgery, everything tasted like iron. He was worried that something had happened during surgery to damage his taste receptors, but the doctor assured him that it was a normal side effect to brain surgery, and it would come back. On top of that, although his double vision had faded he was looking at another two to three weeks before he had approval to drive again. Castiel was completely dependent on his dad and Balthazar to drive him to his appointments or to the store to get groceries, reminding him too much of his adolescent years.

He had to remind himself that he would get through it, and soon enough, his life would get back to normal.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Cas and Balthazar sat in the living room with their feet propped on the coffee table. Normally, Cas would shudder at the sight of their socked feet touching the surface, but they had already finished half the bottle of honeyed mead, and Cas wasn’t finding it in him to care. The background noise of the tv cut through the awkward silence as they stared at the wall in front of them, each caught up in their thoughts. On Balthazar’s lap sat a packet of documents tucked neatly into a manilla envelope, the top flap folded neatly inside. On Castiel’s lap sat his laptop, the bright screen showing a formal letter of resignation.

“Am I making a mistake?”

“In emailing your letter rather than shoving it in your uncle's face? Yes. In resigning? A resounding no.”

“I don’t work for him. Why does everyone think that?”

“Perhaps it’s because he lords his influence over you every chance he gets?”

He rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t have any influence over me and I don’t care what he thinks.”

“So, you’re telling me you aren’t interested in seeing dear Uncle Adler’s face when you hand in your resignation letter?”

“Not really.”

“But you love it when his face turns purple!”

“No, _you_ love it. It’s very unlikely that I’d even see him at the office since I’d be giving it directly to my superior.”

“Why are you emailing it, then?”

“I just had brain surgery.”

“You don’t say?” Balthazar schooled his face into one of shock. “I thought you were ignoring me earlier on purpose.”

Cas scowled, annoyed at his friend for bringing his hearing issues up again. They had been watching a tv show and Balthazar had started talking to him without Cas realizing it. “Perhaps you should learn not to sit on my bad side, especially when there are other noises in the room.”

“I’ll get used to it.”

“Not likely.”

Balthazar smiled at him, fondness clear in his eyes. “Probably.”

Cas returned his smile. “You’re a horrible friend.”

“I never claimed to be otherwise.”

“I want to email it because I don’t want to step foot in that building ever again. Weren't you the one who told me to do what I want?”

“I’m a horrible influence on you.” He tapped his forefinger against his chin. “Can I be the one to inform him, if that’s the case?”

“I won’t be able to stop you.”

His smirk was wolfish. “I’m honored.”

“Don’t burn any bridges for me. I’d like to be able to get another job.”

“I would _never_.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Do what you will, as for now…” he hovered the mouse over the send button, and with a deep breath, hit send. “I’m officially done.”

“Well, you have to train your replacement.”

“No. I recommended a replacement and made it very clear that I would not be returning.”

“That’s cold, love.”

“They’ll make do without me.”

“Ice cold.”

Cas just shrugged. “I’m working on making myself happy. When I return to Kansas with my father, I’m going to find a new job. Something fun.”

“I’ll need a receptionist for that yoga studio I’m opening.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

They moved into the kitchen for snacks, leaving Balthazar’s letter on the table. They had written them together and while Cas’s was sent, Balthazar would be taking his into the office the following morning.

“You keep talking about how you’re doing what makes you happy… what does that mean? Are you going to get another accounting job?”

“No. I’ve put some thought into it, but I haven’t made any decisions.”

“And what are those thoughts floating around in that handsome head?”

“I donate monthly to my local animal rescue, so perhaps I’ll find somewhere in Kansas to volunteer until I find a new job. Maybe I’ll start an apiary and sell goods at the farmers market.”

“Well, if none of those work out, I’ll keep a position open at my yoga studio.”

“Are you serious about opening a studio?”

He shrugged. “About as serious as I am about most things. I’m just keeping my mind open to it.”

“Regardless, once I sell my condo I’ll have time to find and weigh some options.”

“And when is that?”

“I want to be out of here by next month.”

Balthazar was silent as he ate his sandwich, and didn’t speak again until he had washed and dried his plate. “That’s not a lot of time.”

“There’s no reason to stay longer, more so _now_ that you are coming with me.”

“I still have to train my replacement, Cassie. Not everyone has competent staff to choose from.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“My boss, definitely.”

“Even though I’ll be leaving, you don’t have to follow me right away. Take your time and settle things here. I’ll be staying with my father for a few weeks before I try and find a place, but when I do you are more than welcome to stay with me for as long as you need.”

“The only reason I kept that job as long as I did was because of you. If I didn’t have to train someone, I’d give them the two-finger salute and never return. Trust me, there are very few loose ends that need tying and I’ll be making my way down as soon as I can. Lord knows you’ll need me.”

“You have an inflated sense of self-importance.”

“You know, my therapist said the same thing.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t make the sentence any less true. You’re going to need my help.”

“How so?”

“You said you were lonely, so I’m making it my personal mission to find you a boyfriend.”

Cas sighed. “Of course you are.”

“Listen to me, Cassie. I can picture it. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a cowboy hat. They wear those in Kansas, right?”

“I’ve always been partial to green eyes.”

“You’re ruining my fantasy. He’ll be wearing a white t-shirt and tight blue jeans, cowboy boot—of course, can't forget those...”

“You’re ridiculous. I’m not going to Kansas looking for a boyfriend.”

“But if you find one along the way…”

“I won't question fate, but it's not something that I’ll be seeking out.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Now,” Cas started before Balthazar could get back into his cowboy fantasy. “Shall we drink?”

Balthazar poured them some another glass of the mead. “What are we drinking to?”

“The future.”

Balthazar held his glass aloft. “Alright then, to the future!”

Cas clinked his glass to Balthazar’s before letting the tasteless liquid coat his tongue.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Selling his condo hadn’t been a problem. Selling most of his furniture hadn’t been a problem. Sending a few goodbye emails to the few coworkers he liked hadn’t been a problem. Figuring out how he and his dad would get to Lawrence together was definitely a problem.

Chuck had wanted to fly, and while that sounded like the easiest option, Cas didn’t want to sell his car. The Lincoln Continental currently sitting in Castiel’s designated parking spot had seen better days. The transmission was spotty, it was overdue for an oil change, and he was pretty sure the last time he had driven her he heard the brakes grinding. That was all of the things he _knew_ was wrong with it. Cas was sure that if he actually took the car in to be looked at, there would be half a dozen more problems uncovered.

Getting rid of the car was out of the question. While it wasn’t worth much, the Continental had been with him since his first job at the local Gas-NSip. Castiel wasn’t a very sentimental man, but leaving behind the car felt like leaving behind a piece of _him._ He could have bought another car anytime, but he never even entertained the idea. The Continental was a part of him and he’d drive it into the ground. That left Castiel with two options: he could take a chance and they could drive the twenty-five hours to Chuck’s, or he could take the car into the shop and spend a ridiculous sum of money in order to get her in pristine shape before taking the trip. Ultimately, he went with the latter.

On top of the problems he knew about, he needed a new battery, his AC needed freon, the spark plugs needed to be replaced, and the starter was just about shot. Cas was flooded with guilt over the state of his beloved car. Being focused on work for so long hadn’t only affected his social life, it seemed, but also bled into other parts of his life. By the time his car was ready to be picked up, he had sworn to himself that not only would he take better care of himself in the future, but his other possessions as well.

The drive to Lawrence, Kansas was uneventful and slow. They could have made the trip in two days, but Castiel still couldn’t drive and Chuck’s back wasn’t what it used to be. Even though the Continental had been fixed, old cars were temperamental and she didn’t like to go above seventy on the highway, slowing them down even further. They arrived in Lawrence on the third day, exhausted but pleased. The drive had been long, but it was a bonding experience neither was likely to forget.

They stumbled to the front door, Cas with one of his duffle bags and Chuck with his backpack, and headed towards the bedrooms. His old room was both the same and very different. His old bed frame, side tables, and dresser sat just where they had been when he lived there, but the room had been painted a soft green and the sheets were dark blue. After taking a moment to shove his clothes into the dresser, he collapsed into the bed and fell into a deep sleep. He woke again hours later and shuffled his way into the kitchen in search of water and a snack.

Chuck was already sitting at the kitchen nook, coffee mug in hand and a laptop in front of him. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Cas grunted and poured himself a glass of water. Once he was hydrated, he joined his father at the table. “I forgot how quiet it was out here. I haven’t heard a police car _once_.”

“I’ve always gotten my best work done in Lawrence.”

“What are you working on right now?”

“It’s a sequel to a supernatural thriller I put out last year.”

“Did it do well?”

“Well enough to write a sequel.”

Cas felt a wave of guilt. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for that.”

Chuck angled his screen down, giving Castiel his undivided attention. “And I missed all of your promotions. Let’s not linger too much on the past.”

“What is it about?”

“Two brothers who hunt supernatural creatures.”

“Sounds fun.”

Chuck snorted. “You’d hate it. If my memory is correct, you always preferred textbooks and autobiographies to fantasy.”

“I’d read it for you, though.”

“I have a few copies here if you want to try it.”

“I’d like that.”

Chuck smiled at him and went back to his typing. “I have a lasagna in the oven, so don’t eat anything.”

“Where’s Becky? Is she joining us?”

His father froze for a moment before pushing his laptop aside. Chuck steepled his fingers and took a deep breath. Cas got the impression that he’d asked the wrong question. “Becky won't be joining us.”

He nodded, his mind whirring. “Ok.”

“Becky and I have gone our separate ways.”

“Oh, dad…” Cas stood up and moved to sit next to his dad. “I’m so sorry.”

Chuck shrugged and smiled bitterly. “I didn’t want to tell you until you were feeling better, but it just…”

“I understand.”

“I knew she wasn’t your favorite.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

The man let out a deep breath and rubbed at his forehead. “We separated late last year.”

He put his hand on his dad's shoulder. “I’m very sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

“You would have been if you knew. We were just too different.” Cas rubbed his shoulder slowly, trying to offer comfort the best he could. Encouraged, his father continued. “It's been hard, but I’m getting back into my hobbies and it's keeping me busy.”

Memories entered his mind of watching his dad press tools into supple leather, creating beautifully intricate designs while Cas stared, mesmerized at the process. While it was only a hobby and he mostly made items for friends and family, Cas knew it brought him joy in the way his writing career never did. “That’s good. I’d like to watch you work, sometime.”

Chuck must have had the same thoughts. “I can make that happen.”

More than ever, Cas knew that he had made the right decision in coming home.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

It took another month before Cas’s hair was grown out long enough for him to justify a trip to the barber. In that time, Cas has found a few promising leads on a home. One was a small two bedrooms one bathroom cottage on a few acres of land, while the other was a home right next to Downtown Lawrence, three bedrooms and two baths, definitely something he could have a family in. Ultimately, the city house reminded him too much of his old condo, so he decided to start the buying process on the quaint two-bedroom home with the land. He had dreams of a vegetable garden and maybe even some chickens or goats.

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to job search, and since he had so much money in the bank after selling his house, he considered it a low priority. Eventually, he’d have to find his way back into the job force, but it was nice to be able to spend so much time with his dad and reconnect in ways that just two months ago, he never thought was possible.

Balthazar had arrived a few days ago but hadn’t been able to see Cas much due to the pain of moving. While Cas had been content to sell everything before he left, Balthazar made the stressful decision of hiring a moving company and carting every single possession to Kansas. The man was buried in boxes and refused Cas’s help because he was paying the movers to unpack everything, but Balthazar's perfectionism was delaying the process.

With a fresh new trim that gave him a bit more shape yet kept most of the length, he headed towards the animal shelter. The woman at the desk identified herself as Missouri and immediately put him to work. He had known that the work wouldn’t be glamorous, so he was fine cleaning kennels and changing the litter. It was hard, smelly work, but he went home feeling better about himself than he ever did working in an office. He slept very well that night and came back the next day for more.

The kittens were his favorite. Sandy, a tan stray they had saved from an intersection, was his favorite. She was a spitfire, full of hissing and claws, but she had settled into his arms and contented herself with a nap the first time he handled her. Missouri floated the idea of adoption or fostering, but he just shook his head and continued stroking her soft fur. He’d love to, but not until he was in his new home and settled.

When Balthazar was finally done moving in, he decided to celebrate by dragging Cas out to The Roadhouse, a local bar and grill that was reasonably crowded. The minute he walked in, he knew he would have a miserable time. The jukebox was blasting music and people were talking and shouting all over the room. Already, he couldn’t hear a single thing his friend was saying, and he had to remind Balthazar that he needed to be facing Cas if he wanted him to have a chance of understanding him. Balthazar rolled his eyes but waited until they found seats at the bar before attempting to talk to him again. Balthazar immediately ordered them a round of drinks, chicken wings, and cheese-covered tater tots from the young blond woman serving them. Cas watched in disgust as Balthazar ate the entire order of tater tots alone, and ordered another.

“What?” he asked, his cheeks bulging with potato as Cas watched him.

“You’re disgusting. And please, stop talking with your mouth open. I can barely hear you and I need to be able to read your lips. Remember what the audiologist told you?”

Balthazar mumbled to himself before turning to Cas and overcompensating his lip movements with a smug smile. “Do you want some hot wings or tater tots?”

Cas sighed. “I can't believe you’re making fun of someone who’s hard of hearing.”

“Hard of hearing or not, I’m allowed to make fun of my friend, especially since you’re my only one. Actually...” he spun in his chair and faced the crowd of drinkers and pool players. “I’m planning on changing that tonight. You should do the same.”

“I don’t know if I want to make friends with people who frequent bars.”

“ _You’re_ in a bar.”

“Only because you forced me.”

“Yes, I did. What would you be doing at home right now? Watching a nature documentary with your dad? Sounds awful.”

“Sounds like a night well spent, to me.”

“And that’s why you’re single.”

“No, I’m single because I was married to my job.”

“Well, you can consider yourself divorced. Does this mean I can finally be your wingman?”

“Absolutely not.”

“One of these days I’m going to get you a boyfriend. As for today, it seems like I’m taking care of myself.” He took a sip of his whiskey and pushed the glass over for Cas to finish. “Take it, my friend. You’ll need it.”

Cas watched his friend waltz into the crowd and turned back to his drinks. Their bar outings always end the same way: with Balthazar chasing tail and Cas left to Uber home. He swirled the brandy around his glass and watched the amber liquid settle, thinking about his new life here. He hadn’t even begun looking for a job yet, and he had no intention to. He’d just closed on the small house and while it took a chunk out of his savings, the amount left was still sizable.

People came and went from the bar top, placing orders and leaving with their drinks, all while he listened to the bar buzz around him. At his dad’s, he barely even noticed he was half deaf, but here it was obvious in a way he didn’t like. There was too much sound and his head was beginning to ache. Someone could be talking to him at that very moment and he wouldn’t know. The thought made him want to leave and he hoped Balthazar wouldn’t give him _too_ hard of a time, although some light ribbing was inevitable.

The man to his right shifted in his chair, turning his body slightly towards Cas, catching his attention. He took a brief minute to glance at him. Light brown hair, sun-kissed skin covered in freckles, cupid’s bow lips turned up at the corners in a slightly cocky smile. The man’s green eyes met his, and Cas looked away, embarrassed at getting caught staring.

He sighed and looked to the ceiling in annoyance before pushing his empty glass away, knowing he needed to leave. Cas took a moment to contemplate another brandy but decided against it. His equilibrium still struggled to adapt, and adding more alcohol to the mix was just asking for a disaster. He needed to leave.

Decision made, he put a few extra bills on the bartop and rose to his feet, turning to leave without even attempting to look for Balthazar. He pushed through the door, not noticing the confused and slightly hurt set of green eyes watching him walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: DEAN!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I originally marked this as explicit because the second chap had a masturbation scene, but I didn't like it so I deleted it with a plan to have a sex scene in the third chapter. Well, the boys weren't having it so there's no sex scene in this chap either. I hope you will forgive me for switching it, but I didn't want to force it!

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Truth be told, the truth will be told

Only hear it when we're listening

Will unfold for young and old

Cause in the end we're all just visiting

In the end we're only visiting

**_Just Visiting, by WookieFoot_ **

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

The reason he was at the Roadhouse on a crowded Friday night was twofold. First, and arguably the worst, was the fact that Sam had made it his personal mission to play wingman to Dean after a dry spell lasting a few weeks. The truth of it all was that the dry spell had lasted closer to three months, and had no end in sight. Sure, he could have ended it anytime, and he had had a few enthusiastic volunteers, but at almost thirty, Dean was looking to settle down. He’d been on a few dates, but none of them held any promise. So, there he was… dragged to one of the last places he wanted to be right now, with Sam trying to play wingman.

The second reason he was at the Roadhouse was Sam’s imminent nuptials. Recently, Sam had been using any excuse to go out to the bar with ‘the boys,’ and today that was the final fitting for his tux. Two weeks ago, it was to celebrate the cake tasting. A couple of weeks before that, it was mailing invitations. Dean thought the whole thing was ridiculous, but Sam was intent on living it up while he still could since they planned on starting a family almost immediately. He wouldn’t be surprised if they came back from their honeymoon pregnant.

For the third time that night, Sam pointed into the crowd of dancers. “How about that one?”

Dean followed his finger to a young woman in a short black dress. She was gorgeous, he’d give her that, but the way she was grinding her shapely ass into the man behind her turned him off. A year ago, he would be tempted to cut in, but now? He was looking to settle down, and Little Black Dress over there looked like she just graduated high school. “What is she, sixteen? That’s gross, Sammy.”

His brother just rolled his eyes and shook his head. “She’s at least twenty-one.”

“And I’m almost thirty,” he reminded his brother.

“That never seemed to stop you before.”

Dean frowned. “First, that’s because I was twenty-five. I’m not going near a twenty-one-year-old now. Feels dirty. She doesn’t want an old man like me, anyway.”

“Old man? You’re twenty-nine.”

“Yeah, but you gotta round up. I’m practically thirty.”

“Ugh, will you guys shut up?” Charlie cut in, eyeing up the girl. “If you’re not going to go for it, I’ll take my chances.”

“Be my guest,” he gestured her forward.

Sam and Dean watched her go, using all her confidence to strut up to the woman and start dancing with her. The woman seemed to welcome her, and they began a slow grind. Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to his brother. “Looks like she wouldn’t have wanted me anyway.”

“She was dancing with that guy a minute ago…”

“I’m not here looking for sex, ok? I’m here because you — what was it?”

“I had my final fitting.”

“Whoopee.”

Sam squinted at him. “You can go home, you know.”

Dean picked up his whiskey and took a sip. “Then who would keep an eye on you?”

“Charlie? Garth? Benny? Any of the others that came tonight?”

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special,” he muttered to himself before turning his attention back to his brother. “Look, I’m not interested in finding a partner at a bar. I gotta — I don’t know, start looking at a library, or at a supermarket. Fuck it, maybe I’ll start going to church. Somewhere where I can find the _responsible_ girls.”

Sam glanced around, ready to find some young innocent woman to defend, but his eyes immediately landed on a woman who was currently pushed up against a wall with a man’s tongue down her throat and his hand up her skirt. “I can introduce you to a few of my old college friends… I’m sure one of them is single.”

“Why are you so invested in getting me laid? I’m fine. No, I’m better than fine. I’m fucking awesome. I have a great job, good friends, and a little brother to annoy. What else do I need?”

“Is this because of the thing with Lisa?”

“No. This isn’t because of her. I’m perfectly happy being single, and it's _not_ because she dumped me for Ben’s dad. In fact, I’m happy for her and the little guy.”

“Well, she was your last girlfriend, and—”

“Nope, you’re stopping there.”

“But—”

He clapped his hands over his ears. “La-la-la!”

“You’re being immature.”

“ _I’m_ the immature one? You’re the one who’s trying to get me laid!”

“I’m not trying to get you laid…”

“Yeah you are, or you wouldn’t be whoring me out in a bar.”

“I’m not whoring you out!”

“What do you want me to do, fuck someone and then give you a play-by-play?”

“Dean—”

“Hey, everyone!” he yelled over the music, 100% sure no one would hear, or even care. “My little brother is whoring me out, any takers?”

Sam stood up and turned to leave, his face flaming in mortification. “I’m getting a drink… a strong one.”

Dean watched him go in satisfaction. Serves the little shit right. Maybe next time, he’d mind his own business. His little brother took the space next to a man in a white button-down. Dean could just make out a sharp jaw and high cheekbones, and what he saw stirred the dormant butterflies in his gut.

He shook his head and told himself that he _just_ told Sammy that he wasn’t interested in finding someone at a bar, but his eyes were soon drawn back to the lone figure on the stool. His dark hair was messy as if he had been running his fingers through it, or maybe someone had done it to him. The butterflies intensified at the thought of running his fingers through such soft-looking hair. The man lifted his glass to his full lips and took a delicate sip of a clear amber liquid. Whiskey, he thought, or maybe scotch… a _man's_ drink. Already he liked him.

Dean _had_ to go over there. He knew Sam would give him shit for talking someone up right after he’d said he wasn’t interested, but he was being drawn in by the messy hair and rumpled dress shirt. It was clear in the tense set of his shoulders that he was uncomfortable, and Dean wanted to be the one to get him to relax.

Too early, Sam was coming back with a drink in hand. Dean eyed him as he sat back in his chair and placed the glass in front of himself. “Where’s mine?”

“At the bar, waiting for you to order it. I’m not your maid.”

“Coulda fooled me with that hair.”

“That was pretty weak.”

“ _You’re_ pretty weak…” he muttered in retaliation.

“Ouch. That one hurt.” He took a sip of his drink, eying Dean over the rim. “You’re full of ‘em today.”

“Bitch.”

Sam didn’t indulge him in their little tradition. “If you want a drink, then go and get it yourself.”

Dean sighed and eyed the bar top just in time to see the space to the right of the man open. He saw the opportunity right away. “Fine. I’ll go and buy my own damn drink.”

Sam just smirked and watched him walk away, but Dean’s eyes were focused on the empty stool, pleading with whoever was listening that it wouldn’t fill before he got there. Apparently, whoever was up there had their ears on and he was able to sit on the hard wooden stool with no problem. Playing it cool, he waved the bartender over and ordered himself a whiskey on the rocks. She was fast, and the drink was placed in front of him before he was able to think of a single thing to get the man’s attention. As he took a sip of the cold liquid, he decided to go with a tried and true classic.

With more confidence than he was feeling, he swiveled his body toward the handsome man and put on his most charming smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

The man didn’t react at all, other than running a finger along the rim of his drink. He cleared his throat and tried again, this time louder to be heard over the jukebox in the corner and countless people talking around them. “Can I buy you a drink?”

It seemed to do the trick because suddenly the man was glancing in his direction. Hooded blue eyes smoldered at him from under thick lashes. He had a straight nose and a light shadow of stubble surrounding full lips that were slightly chapped, but still pink and extremely kissable. Dean’s brain momentarily went offline as he locked gazes with the man, his stupid smirk stuck in place as he stared helplessly into the man’s captivating eyes.

Too soon, his eyes were averting and he was turning back to his drink, ignoring Dean completely. His smile slipped as he watched the man look to the ceiling as if asking himself ‘ _Why the hell is this guy talking to me?’_ and pushing his drink away. Without a second’s hesitation, slapped a few bills on the bartop, got to his feet, and turned on his heels to leave.

Dean watched, dumbfounded, as the guy walked away without a second glance, disappearing through the door like Dean had somehow offended him with his interest. Shocked, he stared at the door for another few seconds before shaking himself out of it and staring back down at his drink. Rejection and shame swirled in his stomach as he mentally kicked himself for putting himself out there for the first time in months.

Jo stopped in front of him, a rag in hand as she wiped down the bar. “Tough luck.”

He glared up at her. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

She grinned. “Stephanie is on her break, so you get me.”

“Of course you come in time to see me get shot down…”

Her grin turned wolfish. “Yes, and it was great. I’d say not to take it personally, but that looked pretty personal to me.”

“You’re a shit bartender, you know that? You’re supposed to make me feel better, not worse.”

“That service is for people who tip.”

“Well, I’d tip if you poured a better drink.”

She just rolled her eyes. “I pour drinks just fine.”

He tapped his fingers on the bar. “You see him in here before?”

She shook her head. “Definitely a new face. Came in here with _that_ guy.”

Dean followed where she was pointing and zeroed in on a sandy blond man, tall and dressed in a low v-neck shirt and clingy black jeans. Surrounded by a crowd of women, he danced and ground with them all with a smile on his face. With a cocked eyebrow, he turned back to Jo. “So I guess it’s safe to say they weren’t together…”

“Yep. So it must be _you._ ”

He gripped his glass tightly and stood. “Well, thanks Jo. It’s been great.”

She blew him a kiss as he turned to go. “Mom wants you over for dinner next weekend.”

He waved behind himself in acknowledgment and shuffled back to his brother, a frown still pinching his eyebrows, and lowered himself back into his seat. Sam looked up from his phone, oblivious to Dean’s rejection. “What took you so long?”

“Jo showed up,” he grumbled, downing the rest of his drink. “Oh, and Ellen wants us over for dinner soon.”

Sam shrugged and pulled out his phone to put it in his calendar. “Great. Jess has been on my case about getting to know our extended family better.”

“Better keep Jo on a leash, then. It only took her ten seconds at the bar to get on my ass.”

“You love it.”

“Don’t tell her that.”

His brother smiled. “Well, look who’s coming.”

Dean turned to see Charlie bouncing back to the table with the woman from the dancefloor following closely behind. When she reached them, she put an arm around the woman’s shoulder and beamed. “This is Gilda!”

Sam waved and Dean grinned at the woman. “Nice to meet ya.”

Between Sam preaching the wonderful qualities of his fiancé and Charlie staring star-eyed at her newest ‘friend,’ Dean didn’t feel guilty about leaving early. In fact, neither of his companions even seemed to care.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

“Handmaiden!” Charlie called from the door.

He rolled his eyes and left his room in time to see her toeing off her boots in the entryway. “Sure, use the emergency key. It's not like I was home and you coulda knocked.”

She rolled her eyes and started pulling off her sweater. “Don’t you start with me. I haven't seen you all week. If you didn’t want me using that key, you would have called instead of not showing up.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. Sam took me to a bar, and then I caught a cold the next day. Trust me, you wouldn’t want me coughing all over you.”

She crinkled her nose and approached him, arms open for a hug. “If you really loved me, you would have tried to reschedule.”

He smiled as she pressed her face into his shoulder and enveloped him with her thin arms. They stayed like that for a few moments longer than he would hug anyone else, and a smile wormed its way onto his face. “You’re right, but I coulda been naked, or had someone over right now.”

“At two in the afternoon? Not likely.” She made her way into his kitchen. “You usually kick them out by ten.”

He smiled in spite of himself. “You got me.”

“What has you being all hermit-y on us?”

“It’s only been a week, Charlie. You’re making it seem like I disappeared for a month.”

“Ok, but you usually don’t cancel on me, so I was worried. You’re ok, right?”

“I’ve been fixing the deck,” he informed her. Truth was, he spent three days sulking like a child over being rejected by that one asshole at the bar, and the other two days fixing the creaky board on the deck to take his mind off of it. It had worked. Dean hadn’t thought of the asshole from the bar in four days. That is, until now. “Come on, let me show you what I did.”

He grabbed two cold beers and led her to his back deck. It was simple, stained wood with rails and a set of sturdy stairs leading to the lawn. Charlie curled up on the wicker loveseat, tucking her feet under her thighs, and Dean settled into the other chair.

“I fixed the loose step and the plank that squeaked. Now we can have another barbeque when everyone’s free.”

She pumped her fist into the air. “Sweet! I’ve been craving your burgers, you know. Is it alright if I invite Gilda?”

It took him a second to remember who that was. “You two still going out?”

She shrugged. “Kind of? I don’t know. She’s a free spirit kind of gal. I’m just seeing where it goes.”

“Well, I guess she’s welcome too, then. Feel free to invite whoever as long as they bring beer.”

“That’s a pretty low bar.”

He gestured towards his barbeque. “This ain't exactly fine dining.”

“I don’t know about that. Your burgers could be on the menu of a few of our town’s nicer restaurants.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true.”

Dean ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… So tell me, what did I miss?”

“Not much. We played Exploding Kittens again and Sam got his ass handed to him.”

He smirked. “He hates that game.”

She grinned back. “I know.”

“I’ll come to the next one, ok? So, what else is going on?”

“Oh! I met someone on Thursday!”

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

“His name is Castiel and we’re going on a coffee date this weekend.”

“Uh-oh. Should I call Gilda?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s a completely platonic friend date, although he’s hella fine. In fact, I was wondering if you were interested in a double date.”

“I’m _not_ letting you set me up on a blind date.”

“You’ll love this one. He’s handsome and really smart.”

“I don’t care. I’m not letting Sam set me up, and I’m definitely not letting _you_ do it either.”

“Oh, come on… he’s great! Don’t you at least want to know a little bit about him?”

“No, because I’m not going to go out with him.”

“Well, I’ll tell you anyway.”

“Charlie…” he grumbled.

“Like I said, his name is Castiel and he’s only a year younger than you. He just moved down here a month ago, and—”

Despite himself, Dean was curious. “From where?”

“California,” she answered, clearly pleased that he was asking.

Dean scoffed in reply. “A city boy. No thank you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with him being from California. I like him, so you better be nice.”

“Oh, god… you took him under your wing like a little baby bird. Tell me, how pathetic was he when you found him?”

She was clearly unimpressed. “If you’re going to act like this I won’t introduce you two.”

“I already told you I wasn’t interested.”

“Well, what if I just want you two to be friends?”

He was under no illusion that she wasn’t still trying her hand at playing matchmaker. “We’ll see.”

“He was a corporate guy — accounting, I think — and now he’s working at Missouri’s animal shelter.”

“Did he fuck up so bad he couldn’t get another accounting job? Talk about a downgrade…”

“Actually, he had a health scare and decided to move back here. He doesn’t really need a job, Castiel is just trying to keep busy. It didn’t seem like he enjoyed being an accountant.

He grunted, unimpressed.

“He had that kind of squinty, rugged look going for him. Handsome, but not pretty like you.”

Dean tossed his bottle cap at her. “Watch it.”

She grinned and continued. “Dark hair, blue eyes. Totally your type.”

“How do you figure?”

“He’s a brunette, for one, and he likes to read so you can probably talk to him about Vonnegut. Oh, and he already gets along with Sam.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Sam met him?”

“Yeah, he was with me when I went down to the animal shelter a few days ago. You know, when I invited you and you flaked? If you weren’t ignoring my calls, you probably could have met him too.”

“I’m not setting foot in an animal shelter. You know how watery my eyes get when I’m around cats. What were you even doing there?”

“I wanted a kitten!” she replied, excitement clear in her voice. “I didn’t find one, by the way, so no need to freak out. I’m going to try again in a week.”

Dean, whose shoulders had tensed at the idea of his best friend getting a cat, forced himself to relax. “I wasn’t freaking out.”

“A cute little kitten won’t stop you from hanging out at my place, right? That’s what allergy medicine is for. Anyways, he was at the desk when we walked in and he mentioned he was applying to foster some of the cats. We’re practically besties now.”

He wanted to foster cats? There was strike one. “I’m sure.”

“He just bought a house and still has some stuff to arrange, so I’m heading over and helping him out and then he’s going to take me out for dinner.”

“Seems nice.”

“He _is_ ,” she emphasized, “and that’s why I’m trying to set you two up. Aren’t you at least a little interested?”

“Not really. You enjoy your date with City Boy.”

She pulled out her phone. “Are you sure? I have a picture of him.”

The low simmering curiosity, which had been easy to push aside, was now at a rapid boil. It wouldn’t hurt, he reasoned, to take a little peek at the picture she had. He still wasn’t interested, but at least he’d be able to put a face to the guy he was preemptively rejecting. “Fine. If it will get you to leave me alone, I’ll look.”

She smiled and got up from her seat, swiping through pictures on her phone until she found the one she was looking for. “This is a candid shot, so it's a little bit blurry, but I kind of think he looks like a model in this one…”

She thrust her phone out to him, allowing him to get a good look at the brunette dominating the screen. He was handsome, with blue eyes and stubble, his lips parted with surprise as though he was just noticing Charlie’s phone pointing right at him. He was hot, and totally his type — and he was also the asshole that rejected him at the bar.

“This is Castiel. Isn't he dreamy?”

Dean moved the phone out of his face and shook his head. “Not interested.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! He’s the sweetest! You’d love him, I promise.”

Dean wanted to laugh. A ‘sweet’ guy wouldn’t have rejected him in a bar by ignoring him and walking away. “Charlie, I’m not interested, leave it.”

She put her phone away, biting her lip the whole time. “Fine, I’ll drop it.”

True to her word, she dropped it — but that didn’t stop her from throwing narrow-eyed glances his way when the conversation halted. Eventually, she left, giving him a tight hug on her way out and extracting a promise that they’d have a game night when their schedules aligned. Finally alone, Dean sat on his couch, threw his head back, and let out the loud groan he’d been holding in all night. Just when he’d gotten that guy out of his mind, Charlie waltzed in and shoved him back in his face, waxing poetic about how kind and ‘exactly his type’ the guy was.

He hoped that Charlie saying they were ‘practically besties’ wasn’t actually the case, because if it was, then it was looking like he’d be seeing the man around a lot.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

It had taken all morning, but the backyard was finally ready for the barbeque. He’d mowed and edged the lawn, pulled a few weeds, and hand scrubbed the deck, ridding the dark wood of weeks of scuffs and dirt. Even the barbeque had gotten some attention and was shining like new. The burger patties were in the refrigerator, already shaped and seasoned, waiting for the first guests to arrive so he could slap them on the grill.

Everything was covered. Sam and Jess were bringing veggie patties, Garth was bringing his stereo, Charlie was bringing hotdogs and drinks, and her two guests were bringing chips and dip. All he had to do was change into a clean set of clothes and grab a beer to keep him company while he waited for his guests. It felt good putting together a weekend barbeque after so long. He thrived on social gatherings, and with the shitty weather and issues with the deck, it had been a few months since he’d been able to have a group of people over.

With one last sigh, he finished his drink and checked his phone. It was almost 12, and Charlie was never late, so he knew it was only a matter of time before she showed up. Surprisingly, it was Sam and Jess who got there first. He accepted the box of veggie burgers with only a few rude comments, and put them on the grill first, hoping he could finish them and scrub the flavor off the grill before he put the beef patties on.

He was just getting into a conversation with Jess about an engine problem her Toyota was having when the low rumble of Charlie’s VW could be heard turning up the drive. She walked in a few moments later, two guests in tow. Guilda wore her hair pulled back, her chocolate brown waves just caressing her shoulder, and a yellow sundress. Charlie walked at her side, wearing a smile and her lucky Firefly shirt. Behind them walked a man with dark hair and blue eyes. A very _familiar_ set of blue eyes.

Fuck. He couldn’t get away from this guy, could he? His heart hammered in his chest as he was reunited with the man who turned him down two weeks ago. Taking a steading breath, he squared his shoulders and went to help the poor guy carry in the snacks he had been juggling on his own. Dean was a big boy, he could play nice with what’s-his-name, even if he probably didn’t even deserve it.

Dean plucked a soda bottle out of the man’s hands and offered a smile, which the man returned without even a hint of recognition. _Huh_ , he thought to himself. Apparently, the guy didn’t even remember him and he didn’t know if that made things worse or not. Was he getting that forgettable in his old age? A few years ago, he turned heads wherever he went. Was it the fine lines that were popping up around his eyes? He turned to walk the drinks to the table, shaking his head at himself for thinking he was old. Charlie would slap him if she could hear his thoughts. He wasn’t old, and he wasn’t forgettable. This guy was the one with the issues.

Charlie peeled herself off of Gilda’s side and came over to give him a hug. “It’s been too long!”

“I was at your house two days ago.”

She pulled back and narrowed her eyes at him. “As I said. Too long.”

Gilda gave him a soft hug in greeting. “Thanks for letting me come.”

Dean opened his mouth to let her know that any girlfriend of Charlie’s was always welcome, when Charlie began speaking. “Dean, this is my friend Castiel. He’s the one I told you about, _remember_?”

Castiel reached his hand out to shake Dean’s. “Thanks for having me.”

He forced a smile and returned the handshake. “I hope you like burgers.”

His grin widened. “I love burgers.”

Ok, so maybe he wasn’t _that_ bad… “Cool. We have some dogs and veggie burgers too, but I made the patties myself. I cook them medium, so if you have a problem with that…”

“That will be fine.”

Ok, Dean supposed the guy was alright. He gave the man a tentative smile and turned to tend to the grill. Once the hotdogs were placed on the upper rack, he ran inside to grab his patties. A few minutes later he was closing the grill and grabbing himself another beer, content to take a seat and wait the four minutes until he needed to flip them and add the cheddar.

Everything seemed to be going great. People were mingling, Sam and Jess were keeping Castiel entertained while Gilda and Charlie cuddled on his loveseat, and Garth was setting up his stereo. Most unexpected of all, it looked like he might actually make a friend out of Castiel before the afternoon was over.

When his phone told him the four minutes were up, he flipped them and topped all of them with cheese. Anyone who didn’t want a cheeseburger could get over it. Even Sam, who was as lactose intolerant as they come, suffered through it for a slice of aged cheddar on his veggie burger.

It was only a few minutes after that that he plated the patties and let everyone at ‘em. His own burger was a monstrosity. Two patties, bacon, grilled onion, and a nice thick slice of tomato to top it off. The only one who’s burger compared to his in size was Castiel’s. Immediately, his level of approval for the guy shot up.

With his first burger done, and his second one assembled and ready for eating, he left the grill to join Charlie, Castiel, and Sam. He was about ten feet from the trio when he heard them.

“How’s the burger, Cas?”

He smiled and shrugged. “It tastes about the same as anything else.”

Dean froze on his journey. What the fuck? His burger tasted the same as ‘anything else?’ what was that supposed to mean?

Charlie gave him a pat on his shoulder, looking oddly sympathetic. “Oh, no… but you _love_ burgers!”

He looked down at the burger sadly, meat juicy and vegetables crisp. Hell, even Dean would eat it. “I know. That’s why I’m particularly disappointed…”

Wow. Fuck that guy. Dean turned on his heel and left. Turning Dean down at a bar was one thing, but disrespecting his secret recipe? Asshole theory confirmed. Any points he had earned by acting like a decent guy were gone. Marching back to the grill, he gripped the tongs and rolled the dogs over needlessly, eying the chatting group with narrowed eyes. How Sam and Charlie could just laugh along like that while the guy insulted his burgers, he had no idea. The same burgers that everyone loves and constantly complimented him on…

He slammed the lid down and went to get himself a beer. Dean chugged the first half and nursed the other, studiously ignoring the group in favor of Garth. As he listened to Garth prattle on and on about his most recent comic book haul, his mind drifted back to Cas.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Castiel was _everywhere_. He’d pop up at Charlie’s game nights, at the coffee shop when Dean was just trying to get a cup of joe, at the sandwich shop near the garage — and one memorable time, at the garage itself. He came in with a beater of a car, an old Lincoln Continental with scratches and dents but a surprisingly sound engine. Apparently, the guy couldn’t even change the breaks himself and had to take it into Dean.

The problem was that Cas seemed like a great guy. He’d smile, and ask the right questions, and give a few offhand compliments in a way that made it seem unintentional, and generally seem like a great guy! Every once in a while, Dean would look at him and think, _Well, maybe Charlie was right… maybe he is my type_ , and then he’d do something to shatter the illusion.

The first time Dean met Castiel’s friend Balthazar, the man was complaining about his favorite set of Bluetooth headphones being broken. For five minutes, he went on and on about how annoying it was that his expensive headphones only had one side working, how it made it impossible to play his online shooter game when he couldn’t hear what side his enemies were on.

Castiel had listened quietly, one eyebrow raised in a mixture of amusement and annoyance as he talked, making the right noises at the right time to encourage his friend to talk. When he was finally done, Cas cleared his throat, and in a voice dripping with sarcasm, said—

“Wow, I feel _so_ sorry for you. It must be horrible— not being able to hear on one side. How will you manage?”

Oddly, Charlie and Balthazar paused, and a moment later, burst into laughter. He stood there, watching them chuckle and then apologize to him. To _him_. He just didn’t get it! Balthazar might not be Dean’s favorite person, but even Dean could agree that one earphone not working was a pain in the ass. It just seemed like a dick move, trivializing Balthazar’s issue like that.

So, Dean kept him at a distance. He rebuffed all of Charlie’s attempts at getting them together, both platonically and romantically, and he kept the man at arm’s length. He was nice, and still talked to him if Castiel spoke first, but he didn’t do anything to encourage it.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

It was a week from the wedding and Sam was losing his mind. It started when he found out his tuxedo rental wasn’t going to be ready until the morning of his wedding. Then, the florist had to deliver the bad news that one of the flowers for Jess’s bouquet wouldn’t be there in time for the wedding so they would have to change not only her bouquet but her table arrangements too.

Charlie and Dean had been called in as reinforcements and were tasked with keeping Jess busy while Sam tried to tackle both problems. Jess, to her credit, was doing pretty well.

“I trust Jesse with my life.” She told them confidently, referring to her florist. “He’s going to come up with something special, I know it. Sam needs to relax.”

Dean looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He hadn’t been there, but he heard from Charlie that she’d spent ten minutes telling the makeup artist doing her test run everything she had done wrong. In this case, at least, she seemed pretty relaxed. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charlie piped in. “And if not, we can always leave a bad yelp review.”

“Did you know I started doing yoga? Guru Roche taught us an affirmation. Any time I start getting stressed, I just repeat to myself ‘I am in the temple of quietness... peace fills my body, peace fills my heart and dwells within my love. peace within, without, everywhere.’ There’s a bit more, but you get the point.”

Dean snorted. “You’re doing yoga?”

“I’m telling you, Dean… those guided meditations are doing me a world of good. You should come to a class with me. Loosen up a little.”

Dean looked to Charlie for help, but she just shrugged.

“I already promised her I’d go. Balthazar isn’t charging for the first class, so—”

“Wait,” he interrupted, “did you say Balthazar?”

“Guru Roche,” Jess corrected. “It’s a title.”

“That guy isn’t a yoga teacher.”

“He’s new but certified. I checked him out myself,” Charlie added. “I've been having problems with my sciatic nerve recently, and yoga’s supposed to help.”

“You two are crazy.”

“Well, I’m inviting him to the wedding since we have that extra seat. I swear, why would you RSVP if you’re going to wait until the last minute to book a flight, and then cancel on me because it was ‘too expensive’. People are ridiculous.”

That’s when they devolved into wedding talk, and Dean mentally checked out in favor of messing around with his jigsaw puzzle app. It wasn’t until he caught a familiar name that he tuned back in to their conversation.

“—and Cas is going to get a tie to match my dress so we can look like a couple.” She laughed at the thought of them dressing alike for a wedding. “I’m going to have to take that man out to a nice restaurant to make it up to him for agreeing to go so last minute.”

“Sorry Gilda bailed on you…”

“What?” he interrupted, “Gilda ditched you?”

“That’s what we were talking about. Gilda and I broke up so Cas is going to be my date.”

“To the wedding?” Dean blurted out, still confused. Charlie and Gilda broke up? Cas was going to be her wedding date? What in the world was going on?

“Yeah,” Jess and Charlie answered, almost simultaneously.

Dean scoffed. “You barely met him and he’s invited to your wedding? Why did you make such a stink about those damn RSVP’s if you were just going to invite random people off the street?”

“First, he’s not some random guy off the street. Second, he’s Charlie’s plus one, so there are no extra people. He’s even fine with the salmon, so nothing needs to change.”

Dean frowned and turned to Charlie. “What happened between you and Gilda?”

“Apparently, she left to ‘find herself.’”

He stepped forward and embraced his friend in a tight hug. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She clung to him and buried her face in his neck. “It’s not that big of a deal. I kind of saw it coming.”

“Still.”

She pulled away with a forced smile on her face. “Yeah, well… you know now. I’m just glad Cas is being such a good sport.”

“We barely know the guy,” he argued, a little annoyed that the one time he was guaranteed to be away from him was slipping away.

Charlie scoffed and Jess shook her head at him. “No, _you_ barely know the guy. He’s over for dinner once a week. Cas makes a mean quinoa salad.”

“Yeah. We hang out all the time, Dean. He’s been to more game nights than _you’ve_ been to in the last month.”

He opened his mouth to argue but closed it with a sigh. There was no way he was going to get into it with both Charlie _and_ Jess, especially when he had absolutely no say in who got invited to their wedding. “Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

Charlie decided to cut him some slack. “I know. Don’t worry about it, ok?”

With a nod, he changed the subject. “So, what time do you need me over to help set up?”

With enthusiasm only a soon-to-be-married woman can possess, Jess launched into an explanation about table arrangements, name placards, and all of her last-minute DIY projects.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Dean didn’t tear up during the ceremony, he cried like a goddamn baby. At one point, Charlie, who was standing next to him as Sam’s grooms-woman, pulled a crinkled tissue out of her cleavage and handed it to him as inconspicuously as possible. He didn’t even care and took the tissue, discretely wiping at his nose before the photographer could snap a shot. He wasn’t the only one leaking from his eyes. Sam was staring at his bride, red-faced and shoulders shaking as he tried to hold himself together, and half of Jess’s bridesmaids were sniffling behind her.

When the ceremony was finally over, and the hour and a half of picture’s were done, the party began. The newlyweds had sprung for an open bar with two signature drinks, both fruity and sweet, so Dean decided to stick with the whiskey.

Despite fearing that he’d have to interact with Castiel in some way during the night, he only saw the man once in the line for a drink soon after the couple made their first appearance. In fact, it was kind of odd that he didn’t see him after that. It wasn’t the biggest reception space, after all, so he thought they’d at least bump into each other a few times and be forced to have a bit of polite conversation, but after the first time? Nothing.

After he realized Cas was missing, he made an effort of actually looking for the guy. He scanned the reception hall, explored the other rooms on his way to the bathroom, and poked his head into the kitchen for a moment before being shooed away. He even kept an eye on Balthazar, hoping that Castiel would eventually pop in, but after fifteen minutes of watching him hit on the entire wedding party, he gave up.

Charlie found him after that, pulling him to the dance floor.

“Where’s your date?”

“What?” she yelled, turning her head towards him to hear him better over the loud music.

“Where did your date go?” he asked again, shouting this time.

She shrugged. “Went to take a break!”

“He ditched you?”

She must not have heard him, because she kept on dancing, unaware that Dean’s thoughts were being monopolized by her absent date. He tried to take comfort in the fact that she didn’t seem to care that he was gone. In fact, she probably knew exactly where he was. He needed to forget about the man and keep dancing. It was none of his business, after all.

Dean was successful with keeping Castiel out of his mind for a while, instead concentrating on the music and matching Charlie’s rhythm as they danced. It wasn’t until he was dripping with sweat that he had to stop and get a drink before he passed out from dehydration. It only took a few words for him to convince Charlie to do the same. They stood by the bar, slowly sipping their water and fanning their faces in an attempt to cool down, watching the crowd dance.

Sam and Jess danced in the middle of them all, with eyes only for each other, twirling and dipping, and dancing in a way they were going to regret once they saw the wedding video. Still, he could see the love and happiness in their eyes. He had to force himself to look away before his thoughts turned towards his own failed love life.

Dean turned back to Charlie, ready to ask her if she wanted to go outside, but was stopped by the sight of a familiar man just on the other side of the patio door. Castiel leaned against the wooden fence, backlit by the garden lights, his face glowing from the light of his phone.

His mouth dropped at the sight of Castiel standing there all alone, fucking around on his phone while everyone else enjoyed the reception. A flash of anger went through him. Did Castiel think he was too good for the rest of them?

“Your face is red!” Charlie yelled at him. “How much have you had to drink? Want me to get you more water?”

He shook his head, eyes still narrowed at the sight before him. “What did you say your date was doing?”

“What is _who_ doing?”

He cursed the blaring music. “What is Castiel doing?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know!”

Dean grabbed her shoulder and turned her, giving her a full view of Castiel outside and still on his phone. “That’s kind of a dick move, don’t you think? If he didn’t want to be here, he could just go home!”

She turned her gaze to him, her face a picture of confusion. “What?”

Again, he had to yell. “If he didn’t want to be here, he should just go home!”

“He had a headache!”

“He’s been missing for hours!” He snapped his mouth shut, hoping that she didn’t catch that he just admitted that he noticed the man missing for ‘hours.’

“What?”

“For fuck’s sake… IF HE’S GOING TO BE OUT THERE ALL NIGHT, HE SHOULD JUST GO HOME!”

Her face went from confused to angry in a split second. “What are you talking about, Dean? I told you, he had a headache.”

“Well, maybe he shouldn't have had so much to drink.”

“No!” She yelled, leaning in so she didn't have to yell anymore. “It's his ear.” 

“His ear?”

“Yeah! His bad one.”

He felt like a broken record. “His bad one?”

She paused to look at him for a moment. “You _know_ he’s hard of hearing.”

Dean froze, dread pooling in his stomach. “What?”

“You didn't know?”

“Start at the beginning. What the hell is wrong with his ear?”

“He’s hard of hearing, as in half deaf. Can’t hear out of his right ear at all. Poor guy has a headache from the loud music. You’re right, he _should_ go home, but he wanted to stay for Sam and Jess even though it hurts to be in here.”

“You’re telling me he has hearing problems?”

She grimaced. “He never told you? Shit, it was the first thing he told me.”

Dread pooled in his stomach. Fuck. Of course the guy never told him. Dean had spent their first few meetings avoiding him like the plague. He was kicking himself for being such a dick. “Oh, shit. I’m an asshole.”

“Yeah.” She agreed. “It’s not like it was a secret… I can’t believe you never caught on. Cas had a brain tumor earlier this year and lost his hearing from the surgery.”

The dread in his stomach grew, getting heavier and heavier until he had to sit down. Dean grasped for his chair and slumped into it, letting the happy songs wash over him. “Fuck.”

“What the hell is your problem, anyway? So what if he wants to be outside? It’s not like Sam and Jess are going to notice.” She pointed to the happy couple dancing in the middle of the crowd. “You could go streaking through the crowd and they wouldn’t notice.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to crack a joke about giving him ideas, but it died before it reached his lips. “Fuck. I’m such an asshole.”

“You already said that.”

“No, I really am,” he insisted. “I’ve been giving him the cold shoulder because I thought he was ignoring me!”

“Wow…”

“Come with me to get some air.” They went into the hallway and down a few doors until he felt he could talk to her without yelling. “God… should I go and apologize?”

She shrugged. “Were you going out of your way being an ass?”

“No, but I— shit. Maybe? I don’t fuckin know.”

“Maybe you should go and talk to him, then.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Charlie. What if he hates me?”

Charlie scoffed. “I have it on good authority he doesn’t hate you.”

“But— I was, so— He said the thing about my burgers, and I thought he was an ass, so—”

“What did he say about your burgers?”

“He didn’t like the taste… said they were disappointing.”

“You sure about that? Everyone likes your burgers.”

“He said they tasted just like everything else!”

Understanding dawned on her face. “Oh, god! This is too good. He wasn’t insulting your burgers, you idiot. He just had brain surgery! He couldn’t taste _anything_.”

“He couldn’t taste anything?”

“Yeah. Everything tasted like iron, apparently. He only started getting his sense of taste back a couple weeks ago.”

Everything was beginning to make a horrible kind of sense. The time Castiel gave Balthazar shit for complaining about the headphones, the times he seemed to space out during their game nights, and oh god— the first time they met. It was so loud in that bar, and he remembered Castiel not hearing him the first time. Shit… what if he hadn’t heard him the _second_ time either? Was everything just some horrible, fucked up coincidence? Had Castiel never turned him down because he hadn’t known Dean had been flirting with him in the first place?

“I gotta go and talk to him. This is so fucked.”

“Well, you know where he is…”

He didn’t wait to see if she would say more. In a moment, he was back in the reception hall, practically elbowing people out of the way to get to the back door. He could see him there, still staring on his phone as he propped himself against the wall with a narrow hip.

Quite dramatically, he pushed through the double doors, gaining the man’s attention instantly. Castiel looked around the room as if to check if he was, in fact, alone. As if Dean would never willingly put himself in a situation where they would interact. Dean’s heart dropped at the implication.

“Uh, hey…”

Cas pushed away from the wall in one smooth move and pocketed his phone. “Hello, Dean.”

Faced with Cas’s open expression, his earnest blue eyes and parted lips, he lost his nerve. Everything he planned on saying to him vanished and in its place was a stuttered greeting. “Uh… how ya doin’?”

“I’m alright.”

“Charlie said you had a headache?”

He nodded. “It’s very loud in there, and with only one ear— well…”

The fact that Cas was so open about it made him realize just how much he had to have missed. “Maybe you could, uh… ask them to turn it down?”

A slow smile appeared on Cas’s face. “I don’t think they’d do that.”

He internally cringed. “Yeah, probably not. Want some company?”

“It's your brother's wedding, go and enjoy it. I’ll be fine out here.”

“Sam won’t notice I’m not there. Trust me.” He walked over to stand next to Castiel. “I just needed a break.”

Castiel shifted over to give him more room, lapsing into silence. Dean wanted to say something, anything, and somehow make up for his shitty behavior towards the man, but he was drawing blanks. Desperately, he racked his mind for any tidbits Charlie dropped about him.

“So… Charlie told me you’re starting a garden?”

Castiel’s eyes lit up. “Yes. I used to own a condo and was never able to start one, but now that I have the land I’ve planted a few things.”

“That’s cool,” he ventured. “What did you plant?”

“Standard stuff. Potatoes, squash, some onions, and a lot of root vegetables. I want to plant more, but I need to wait until next month if I want them to grow.”

More silence.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Cas. He had put his phone away when Dean joined him, but he made no move to fill the silence, content to just lean against the wall and wait it out. He was once again stricken with just how handsome the man was. Especially in profile with his strong nose and sharp jaw. The same attraction he felt before was back in full force, simmering under the surface. Without any of the blind dislike, it was too easy to once again fall into that smoldering attraction.

Castiel stood next to him, unaware of Dean’s spiraling thoughts, foot tapping out the beat to the music pounding inside. He had the insane thought to ask him to dance but immediately pushed it away. Despite technically knowing him for more than a month, they never spent time together. Hell, they never actually had a full conversation. He didn’t know Castiel at all.

But he wanted to.

“So, Charlie told me you’re from California?”

“Charlie’s told you a lot about me.”

He just shrugged.

“Yes, I moved here from California.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Dean continued. “And now you work at the shelter?”

A frown marred his expression, and he turned it to Dean. “Yes. I work at Missouri’s animal shelter. You should probably go inside. I don’t want you to miss out on your brother’s big day.”

It felt too much like a dismissal. “Trust me, he’s fine.”

“Dean…”

“Castiel,” he replied petulantly, immediately regretting it.

“Just Cas, please,” he corrected. “Listen. I know you don’t like me, so there’s no need for you to keep me company.”

“Whoa!” Dean squeaked out. “I don’t _not_ like you, Cas.”

Cas just stared at him. “You make it a point to avoid me. In fact, this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, but—” He choked on his words. “It’s not because—”

He stood there, staring at Dean while he made an ass of himself, making no effort to help him.

“I don’t hate you, ok?

“May I ask why you never talk to me, then?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. “Well, the thing is… I kinda thought you were a dick.”

“You thought I was a dick?”

“I guess I was the only one who didn’t know you had that surgery, so I thought…”

“You thought, what?”

“You were ignoring me on purpose? I understand that you weren’t, now.” he rushed to explain.

“I suppose I understand. Did you really not know? I make it a point to tell everyone so I can avoid this exact thing.”

Dean shook his head. “I had no idea. I thought you didn’t like me.”

“A few people at the shelter thought I was an asshole for a week before they found out I wasn’t ignoring them on purpose. It happens, I suppose, so there are no hard feelings.”

That just made him feel worse. “Shit. I’m still sorry. Can I make it up to you?”

Cas shook his head. “There's no need. When I say this happens often, I mean it. Don’t feel like you need to make it up to me, Dean. It would make me feel better if you went inside and enjoyed the night.”

“I don’t want to go inside,” he forced out, working to keep his voice even despite the rising annoyance. “I’m fine out here.”

“But your brother—”

“Will be fine. Fuck, Cas. I want to be friends, why are you making this so fucking difficult?”

Cas stared at him, lips parted in surprise. His blue eyes roamed over Dean, assessing him as the silence dragged. Dean regretted yelling immediately, knowing that that was no way to get someone to like you. Surprisingly, Cas’s shoulders slumped and he relaxed, a small smile appearing on his face. “You really thought I was ignoring you?”

He nodded, taking the offered bone for what it was. “Yeah, I couldn’t understand why you were nice to everyone but me. Not to mention the first time we met…”

“The first time?”

“Yeah. At the bar.”

Cas was looking at him like he was insane. “We didn’t meet at a bar. We met at Sam’s barbeque.”

“No, we definitely met at a bar. I sat next to you and tried to hit on you. You ignored me and walked away. I thought it was a real dick move.”

“No. I would remember if you hit on me.”

Dean flushed red at the implication. “Well, I did. I wanted to buy you a drink and everything. You looked at me then walked away.”

“I had no idea.”

Dean let out a long breath, inexplicably happy that he hadn’t been rejected like he thought. “Thank fuck. I thought I lost my charm.”

Cas scoffed. “That’s impossible.”

Dean froze, reply stuck in his mouth. Did Castiel just…

The man looked away, flustered. “I just meant that you’re—”

Smirk slowly forming, Dean leaned forward, batting his lashes. “Yeah?”

Cas bit his lip, pinkening the flesh. “Stop it.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

His unimpressed look forced a chuckle out of Dean. Cas looked away, fighting a smile. “You know what you’re doing, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Are you always like this? If you are, I think I prefer our old relationship.”

God, this was just too easy. “Oh, so you want a relationship now? That’s movin a bit fast, don’t ya think?”

“You’re impossible. I can’t believe Charlie speaks so highly of you.”

A little spike of fear broke through his flirtatious smirk. “What did she say?”

“She tried to tell me that you were kind and loyal, but clearly she was mistaken. Someone like that wouldn’t torment me.”

Light teasing was familiar territory, so he relaxed into the easy flirting. “Funny, she said the same thing about you.”

“Oh? What else did she say?”

Dean smirked, taking a step closer to the man. When he didn’t back up or react in any way, Dean leaned in, entering the man’s space. “She said you were my type.”

  
His eyebrows lifted. “Am I?”

“I don’t know. I guess it all depends on one thing… what’s your favorite flavor of pie?”

Spell broken, Cas laughs. Dean’s serious face only lasts a few seconds longer before he’s joining Cas in laughter. Leaning back, he looks over the amused man. His eyes were warm and crinkled in happiness as he shakes his head at Dean. He was so close, close enough to kiss, but Dean barely knew him. All he knew was that Cas was attractive, and attracted to him in return, kind to him and all of his friends, willing to join in on Charlie’s game nights despite how competitive she could get, full of empathy for the lost and abandoned animals at the shelter, and most of all, he was staring at Dean’s lips like he wanted to kiss him too.

  
Impossible.

  
Dean leaned closer, telegraphing his intentions by dropping his eyes to Cas’s full lips and wetting his own.

“Pecan,” Cas muttered, not backing up but not leaning in either.

“Huh?” It came out breathy, barely any voice for the word.

“My favorite pie. Is that ok?”

It was more than ok. Cas coulda said he preferred cake and Dean wouldn’t have cared. “I love pecan.”

  
“Good.”

The air was charged between them. Cas looked at him, still frozen on his feet. They were close enough that Dean could feel the heat of Cas’s body seeping into his shirt, but still, he didn't move. Finally, Cas shifted slightly, bringing his chest in contact with Dean’s, and that was what he was waiting for. He closed his eyes and leaned in, pressing his lips to Cas’s. There was no hesitation, no regret, just the soft feeling of Cas’s lips slotting over Dean’s.

  
  


There were no fireworks, only a gentle wave of warmth flowing through his stomach and to his brain, making him warm and fuzzy in a way he hadn’t felt for years. Cas kisses him gently, slowly, as if there was all the time in the world to feel their lips together. The music inside switched to a slow song, and Dean could have laughed it was so fucking perfect.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

When Cas stepped out of the reception hall in an attempt to calm his pounding head, he never imagined he’d be pressed against Dean, lips moving together softly and a rough calloused hand working its way into his hair. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect, and the only thing that would make it any more like a rom-com ending was—

He wanted to laugh when the song vibrating through the small courtyard quieted and was replaced by soft piano and the dulcet tones of Josh Groban. He could feel Dean’s lips, so pliant and soft, stretching into a smile. It started with Cas, a small huff of laughter against Dean’s lips, and Dean reciprocated with a chuckle of his own.

They pulled apart, the kiss coming to a naturally sweet end, and looked at each other, each set of eyes searching the others face.

When Cas had seen Dean all those weeks ago, and the man had grabbed the precarious soda’s out of his arms like a night in shining armor, he had known he was lost. Charlie had been talking him up at every chance she got, telling him that Dean was a great guy, so easy to get along with, and Cas would love him. that soon morphed into telling Cas how cute he was, how Dean loved classic rock and kept himself in shape, how he was good with his hands and could fix practically anything. How he was ‘definitely your type’. He had laughed at the time, unsure that Charlie knew what his type was after so little time, but that laughter had died on his lips the moment he locked eyes with Dean.

He had been trying to talk himself into approaching Dean that entire barbeque, but once his burger was gone and he had gathered enough courage to attempt some conversation, the moment had been lost. Dean stopped looking at him, instead glowering at nothing and keeping quiet. Something had happened and he knew the time to act was gone.

After that, Dean was always too busy with other people to talk to Cas, occasionally going out of his way to avoid him. He knew then and there, that he had lost his chance. The handsome man wasn’t interested in friendship, let alone something more, and Cas had to respect that. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t personal, Dean didn’t _have_ to be friends with him just because Charlie and the others were, but it sure felt personal.

But to stand there under the stars and twinkling lights strung, grinning at each other ear to ear, he knew that he wouldn’t trade any of it.

“Do you want to dance?” it was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Dean, to his credit just shook his head softly, amusement in his eyes. “Why not?”

They settled into an easy sway, one of Dean’s hands on his shoulder and the other on his hip, grounding him through a gentle touch. There was no finesse, no swirls or fancy footwork, just a slow back and forth that left Cas itching to close the gap between them. As if reading his mind, the hand on his hip gave a gentle tug, lining them up from hip to chest. He let his head come to rest against Dean’s shoulder, fitting perfectly into the warm crook. Cas inhaled deeply and let his eyes slip shut, enjoying the feel of a firm body against his.

His health scare now felt like luck. Cas’s circle of friends was growing exponentially, his job at the shelter was more rewarding than his office job had ever been, his relationship with his dad was stronger than he could have ever hoped for, and now he had Dean. He had never been more glad for his friend pushing him to take his life back…to do what he wanted, and right now, Cas wanted to hold Dean close to him and not let go.

If his good ear hadn’t been facing the reception hall, he likely wouldn’t have heard the gentle tap of something bumping the glass door. He lifted his head and stared in disbelief at Charlie, face smushed against the glass and grinning like a lunatic, phone pointing towards them. He tensed in surprise, ready to tell Dean about their visitor, but Charlie flashed him a thumbs up and he relaxed. If anyone deserved to intrude on their little moment, it was her.

He shook his head fondly at his date, unable to fight the smile on his face as she vibrated with excitement.

_‘I told you so’_ , she mouthed to him through the glass.

He winked at her, tightening his grip on Dean’s shirt, knowing enough about Dean that he would stop in embarrassment if he got a view a view of Charlie watching them. He could only thank his lucky stars that Balthazar wasn’t around. The man had a knack for ruining moments, and—

Speaking of the devil, Balthazar appeared as if summoned out of the darkness of the reception hall, walking up and taking everything in. He stood beside Charlie, wicked grin on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Flattening his palm on Dean’s back, he extended his middle finger with a glare. Balthazar threw his head back, body shaking with laughter, and immediately began thrusting his hips in their direction. Cas held back his smile and watched as his friend threw increasing lewd gestures their way, going as far as simulating fellatio. Charlie smacked him on his shoulder, speaking in a fury of words that Cas couldn’t hear as he continued basking in the feel of Dean’s arms on his. He closed his eyes to them and breathed in Dean’s scent, once again resting his head on the man’s shoulder.

Dean, facing away from the door, was none the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment and tell me what you thought! Stay hydrated and healthy!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and tell me what you think!


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